THE 


LIFE 


OF 


BY 


J.    T.    H  E  A  D  L  E  Y, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  WASHINGTON  AND  HIS  GENERALS,"  "  NAPOLEON  AND  HIS  MARSHALS," 
"THE  SACRED  MOUNTAINS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YOEK: 
CHARLES       SCRIBNER, 

377   &   379    BROADWAY. 
1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 
ABRAHAM  H.  SEE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in  and  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


6TERF.OTYPKD  BY  J.  C.  PENSISGTOX  4  CO. 

HO.  17  HARMOXY  PLACE  PHILADA, 

PRIMES  BY  (;FOKGE  RUSSELL 


PREFACE. 


THE  appearance  of  this  Life  of  Washington  almost  simul- 
taneously with  that  written  by  Washington  Irving,  would 
naturally  require  some  .explanation.  It  will  be  sufficient 
for  me  simply  to  state  that  the  present  work  was  written, 
and  all  but  two  or  three  chapters  printed,  before  Mr.  Irving's 
work  was  even  announced  as  about  to  be  published.  It  was 
commenced  nearly  three  years  ago,  and  issued  in  numbers 
in  Graham's  Magazine.  The  series  was  concluded  last 
March.  My  design  was  to  popularize  the  Life  of  Washing- 
ton by  confining  myself  to  events  and  incidents  intimately 
connected  with  him  and  his  movements,  and  thus  make  the 
work  less  voluminous  than  it  would  be  if  it  embraced  a 
more  detailed  history  of  concurrent  events. 

Recent  collections  of  documents  throwing  new  light  on 
the  war  of  the  Revolution  made  such  a  work  desirable. 
Mr.  Lossing  by  his  researches  has  exhumed  a  vast  amount 
of  interesting  matter.  All  of  Rufus  Putnam's  papers  and 
correspondence  and  diary  have  also  been  put  in  my  hands, 
which  shed  an  entirely  new  light  on  some  of  the  most  in- 
teresting events  of  the  Revolution,  and  movements  of 
Washington.  The  reader  will,  therefore,  find  a  vast  num- 
ber of  facts  in  this  work  which  have  never  before  appeared 
m  any  Life  of  Washington,  but  which  add  greatly  to  the 
interest  which  surrounds  his  character.  The  Historical 
Societies  of  different  States  have  also  yielded  me,  by  their 


vi  PREFACE. 

valuable  collections,  much  aid.  Their  efforts  for  the  last 
few  years  to  gather  and  preserve  old  documents  and  letters, 
which  were  fast  passing  away,  have  added  greatly  to  the 
material  for  any  work  connected  with  the  Revolution. 
The  amount  of  my  indebtedness  to  these  new  sources  of 
information  will  be  readily  perceived  by  the  reader.  As  to 
the  rest,  I  have  consulted  the  usual  authorities  on  that  period 
of  our  history,  a  list  of  which  would  be  too  long  to  give  in 
this  place. 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


STEEL  ENGRAVINGS. 

Portrait  of  Washington,  from  an  Original  Painting  by  Stuart,  in  the  Boston 
Athenaeum. 

Portrait  of  Washington  at  the  age  of  forty,  from  an  Original  Painting  in  the  pos- 
session of  George  W.  P.  Custis. 

Washington  Crossing  the  Alleghany. 

Putnam  receiving  the  Intelligence  of  the  Battle  of  Lexington.  /  >  >' 

Lafayette's  last  Interview  with  Louis  Sixteenth  and  Marie  Antoinette  before  his 
departure  for  America. 

Washington  at  Valley  Forge.    2^V~ 

The  Oath  at  Valley  Forge.  -&  fr  to 

Mercer  mortally  wounded  at  Princeton.  - 

Capture  of  Major  Andre.    ;  ; 


WOOD  ENGRAVINGS. 

Washington  and  his  Mother. 

Death  of  Jumonville.  '-'  -" 

Defeat  of  Braddock.  r  ? 

Burial  of  Braddock.  £  - 

Planting  of  the  Royal  Flag  on  the  Ruins  of  Fort  Duquesne.  ?  x 

Chairing  Colonel  Wood  as  proxy  for  Washington.    ^  $ 

Washington's  Wedding.     </  / 

Washington  dragging  the  Poacher  ashore. 

Descending  the  Ohio. 

Christening  the  Liberty  Tree. 

Duche's  Prayer  in  Congress.  /  /  ^ 

Scene  at  Stockbridge,  on  receiving  news  of  the  Battle  of  Lexington.  /  / 

The  Bellman  informed  of  the  Passage  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

Knox  entering  Camp  with  Artillery. 

Evacuation  of  Boston.    / 

vii 


vili  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Tearing  down  the  Statue  of  George  III.   /  -4 

Young  Callender  Fighting  his  Gun.      .  3 

Washington  endeavoring  to  rally  the  Fugitives. 

Quaker  Lady  detaining  the  English  General,    n  7 

Washington  and  Captain  Forest  inquiring  for  the  Hessian  Picket    £  ft  f 

Washington  at  Princeton. 

Countrymen  joining  the  Army  under  Gates.    ' 

Night  Attack  at  Paoli.    ' 

Washington  urging  the  Countryman  to  greater  speed. 

Abandoning  the  Vessels  at  Gloucester. 

Attack  on  Fort  Mifflin.     >   f  )f* 

Moll  Pitcher  at  Monmouth. 

Washington  and  Lee  at  Monmouth. 

Washington  taking  leave  of  the  Army. 

Washington  at  the  Death-bed  of  young  Custis.     •/  c' 

Washington  taking  leave  of  his  Mother. 

Washington  as  a  Farmer.     • 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Birth  and  Death  of  Great  Men — Ancestry  of  George — Loss  of  his  Father — 
Sent  to  District  School — Early  History — Appointed  Surveyor — Forest  Life — 
Goes  to  Barbadoes  with  a  Sick  Brother — Appointed  Major  over  the  Militia — 
Sent  a  Commissioner  to  the  French — Account  of  his  Perilous  Journey.  - 

.  •  CHAPTER  H. 

Washington  sent  against  the  French — Hostilities  of  the  latter — Fort  Duquesne — 
Difficulties  of  the  March — Dangerous  Explorations — Message  from  the  Half- 
King — Night  March — Attack  on  Jumonville — Feelings  of  Washington  in  his 
First  Battle— Final  Results  of  it— Fort  Necessity— Battle  of  the  Great  Mea- 
dows— Washington  Capitulates — Resigns  in  Disgust  his  Commission — Tart 
Refusal  to  Join  the  Army  under  Governor  Sharpe — Accepts  Braddock's 
Request  to  act  as  Volunteer  Aid — Is  taken  Sick — Joins  the  Army — Battle  of 
Monongahela — Bravery  of  Washington — The  Retreat — Death  of  Braddock — 
Washington  Reads  the  Funeral  Service — Burial  by  Torch-light — Scenes 
around  Fort  Du  Quesne — Demoniacal  Jubilee  of  the  Indians — Washington  at 
Mount  Vernon — Disgust  with  the  Government — Apppointed  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  the  Virginia  Forces — Head-quarters  at  Winchester — Inroads  of  the 
Indians — Terror  of  the  Settlers — Sternness  of  Washington — False  Rumors — 
Difficulty  with  Captain  Dagworthy — Goes  to  Boston  to  refer  it  to  Governor 
Shirley — Reception  on  the  way — Falls  in  love  with  Miss  Phillips  of  New 
York — His  Return. 

CHAPTER  III. 

Fresh  Hostilities  of  the  Indians — Attempts  to  Supersede  Washington — Anony- 
mous Libels — Washington  wishes  to  Resign — Prevented  by  his  Friends — 
Establishes  a  Line  of  Forts — Harassing  Nature  of  his  Duties — Attends  a 
Convention  at  Philadelphia — His  Sickness  and  Retirement  to  Mount  Vernon — 
Progress  of  the  War — Frederick  the  Great — Washington's  first  Acquaint- 
ance with  Mrs.  Custis — Advance  of  the  Army  to  Fort  Du  Quesne — Wash- 
ington required  to  cut  a  New  Road — His  Forebodings  likely  to  prove  true — 
Capture  of  the  Fort— Election  of  Washington  to  the  House  of  Burgesses — 
His  Marriage — Life  at  Mount  Vernon — Collision  with  a  Poacher — Settles  the 
Soldiers'  Claims— Expedition  to  the  Western  Wilderness  to  examine  the 
Wild  Lands — Admirable  Preparation  for  his  Future  Career.  - 

ix 


X  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Character  of  the  Colonists— First  Attempt  to  Tax  the  Provinces— Its  Recep- 
tion by  the  People — Taxation  Discussed  in  the  British  Parliament— Speech 
of  Colonel  Barre — Attitude  of  Virginia — Speech  of  Patrick  Henry — South 
Carolina  and  Gadsden — Attacks  on  Stamp-Master  J.  Ingersoll — First  Con- 
gress at  New  York — The  Stamp  Act  Repealed—  Excitement  and  Joy  of  the 
Colonists — Washington's  Views  of  it — Duties  on  Tea,  Paper,  etc. — Tea 
thrown  overboard  in  Boston  Harbor— Port  Bill — Virginia  Assembly  and 
Conduct  of  Washington — Fast  Day — Fairfax  Resolutions — Washington's 
Letter  to  Mr.  Bryan  Fairfax — He  is  Elected  a  Delegate  to  the  First  General 
Congress— Action  of  Congress — Prayer  by  Duche — Washington's  standing 
in  Congress — Lexington  and  Concord — Excitement  of  the  People — Stock- 
bridge — The  Second  Congress — Washington  Chairman  of  every  Committee — 
Appointed  Commander-in-Chief— Battle  of  Bunker  Hill — Journey  of  Wash- 
ington to  Cambridge — Takes  Command  of  the  Army— Its  Character — Ap- 
pearance of  the  Encampment — Washington's  first  order — Organization  of 
the  Army — Difficulties  that  beset  him — Forced  to  act  contrary  to  his 
wishes.  .----.----.-- 


CHAPTER  V. 

Washington  Remonstrates  against  the  Treatment  of  American  Prisoners — 
Sends  Arnold  to  Quebec — Want  of  Powder  in  the  Army — A  new  Army 
raised — The  National  Flag  first  hoisted — Washington  prevented  from  As- 
saulting the  Enemy's  Works — His  feelings  under  the  delay — Thinks  of  the 
Poor  at  Home — "  Boston  Blockaded,"  a  farce — Washington  takes  Possession 
of  Dorchester  Heights — Howe  resolves  to  storm  them — Attempt  abandoned, 
and  the  Evacuation  of  Boston  commenced — Sufferings  of  the  Tories — Wash- 
ington orders  the  Army  to  New  York — Lee  sent  South — His  Letter — Wash- 
ington Visits  Congress — His  Views  of  a  Declaration  of  Independence — Defeat 
of  the  Northern  Army — Attempt  to  spread  Disaffection  in  Washington's 
Guard — Congress  discusses  the  Declaration  of  Independence — Excitement 
in  Philadelphia  at  the  final  vote — Its  reception  by  the  Army  and  People — 
Operations  around  New  York — Howe's  Letter  to  George  Washington,  Esq. 
The  assembling  of  the  British  force — State  of  the  two  Armies. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  British  land  on  Long  Island — Sickness  of  Greene — The  Battle — Defeat  of 
Sullivan  and  Stirling — Masterly  Retreat  to  New  York — Causes  of  Failure — 
New  York  abandoned — Retreat  of  Washington  to  Harlgom  Heights — Land- 
ing of  the  British  at  Kip's  Bay — Poltroonery  of  the  Americans  and  rage  of 
Washington — His  severe  Order  of  the  Day — Remarks  on  this  Conduct  of 
Washington — Narrow  Escape  of  Putnam  with  his  Division — Skirmish  be- 
tween two  Detachments  and  Death  of  Knowlton — Manoeuvre  of  Howe  and 
Battle  of  Chattel-ton's  Hill— Retreat  of  Washington— Fall  of  Fort  Washing- 
ton.   


TABLE    OF    CON  TENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  VH. 

Retreat  of  "Washington  through  the  Jerseys— Disorganization  of  his  Army — 
Finally  takes  post  beyond  the  Delaware,  near  Trenton — Unaccountable 
apathy — Washington  takes  advantage  of  it— Reinforced — Reorganization  of 

the  Army — Washington  resolves  to  march  on  Trenton Passage  of  the 

river — The  Attack— The  Victory — March  on  Princeton — Astonishment  of 
Cornwallis— Death  of  Colonel  Rahl— The  effect  of  the  Victory  upon  the 
Country — Poverty  of  the  Army — Robert  Morris,  the  noble  Financier — 
etc.,  etc.  ._---------- 


CHAPTER  Till. 

Washington's  Fame  in  Europe— Barbarity  of  the  Hessians— Depredations  of 
the  Troops — General  Heath  summons  Fort  Independence  to  surrender — 
Washington  issues  a  counter  Proclamation  to  that  of  Howe — Uly  received 
in  New  Jersey — Five  additional  Major  Generals  and  ten  Brigadiers  appoint- 
ed— Inhuman  treatment  of  American  Prisoners  by  the  British — Arnold  and 
Wooster  drive  Governor  Tryon  back  to  his  ships — Meigs'  Expedition  to  Sag 
Harbor— The  British  Evacuate  New  Jersey — Arrival  of  Lafayette— His 
Interview  with  Washington — The  British  land  at  Elk  and  march  on  Phila- 
delphia— Washington  advances  to  meet  them — Skirmishing— Washington 
re-crosses  the  Brandywine  and  takes  position  near  Chad's  Ford — Position 
of  the  Northern  Army,  etc. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Battle  of  Brandywine — A  new  account  of  the  loss  of  the  British,  found  among 
General  Clinton's  papers — Washington  again  offers  Howe  Battle — Defeat  of 
Wayne  at  Paoli — Philadelphia  taken — Fortifications  erected  at  Mud  Bank 
and  Red  Bank — Tenacity  of  Washington — Battle  of  Germantown — Cause 
of  the  Defeat  of  the  Americans. -  - 


CHAPTER  X. 

Fall  of  Burgoyne — Sermon  of  Timothy  Dwight — Letter  from  Washington  to 
Howe — Attack  on  Fort  Mercer  and  Death  of  Count  Donop — Gallant  Defence 
and  Fall  of  Fort  Mifflin — Fall  of  Fort  Mercer — March  of  Howe  against 
Washington,  and  Address  of  the  latter  to  his  Troops — The  Conway  Cabal 
and  fate  of  the  head  Conspirators — Valley  Forge — Sufferings  of  the  Soldiers — 
Washington  at  Prayer — Labors  of  Washington  and  Inefficiency  of  Congress — 
The  Half-Pay  Establishment — Washington's  Answer  to  the  Complaint  that 
he  did  not  make  a  Winter  Campaign — News  of  the  Alliance  of  France — 
Celebration  of  it  in  Valley  Forge — Baron  Steuben  and  the  Effects  of  his 
Discipline  on  the  Army — Howe  resolves  to  Evacuate  Philadelphia — Council 
of  War  in  American  Camp  on  the  best  course  to  adopt. 


Xll  TABLE    OF     CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Lafayette  at  Barren  Hill — The  Oath  of  Allegiance  taken  by  the  Officers — 
Strange  conduct  of  Lee — Evacuation  of  Philadelphia — Determination  of 
Washington — Battle  of  Monmouth  and  conduct  of  Lee — Arrival  of  the 
French  Fleet — Attack  on  New  York  planned — Failure  of  the  Attempt  against 
Newport,  and  Displeasure  of  the  French  Commander — Massacre  of  Baylor's 
Dragoons  and  American  Troops  at  Egg  Harbor — Destitute  condition  of  the 
Army,  and  Opinions  of  Washington  as  to  the  result  of  it — The  Army  in 
Whiter  Quarters — Miserable  condition  of  Congress — Sickness  of  Lafayette — 
Washington  consults  with  Congress  on  the  Plan  of  the  Summer  Campaign — 
Resolves  to  act  solely  against  the  Indians — Sullivan's  Expedition — Taking 
of  Stony  and  Verplanck's  Points — Governor  Tryon's  Foray — Successful  At- 
tack of  Wayne  on  Stony  Point — Lossing's  Accusations  refuted — Wretched 
state  of  the  Currency — Washington's  Indignation  against  Speculators — 
Count  Vergennes'  views  of  Washington — Suffering  of  the  Troops  in  Winter 
Quarters  at  Morristown — The  Life  Guard — Death  of  the  Spanish  Agent — 
Washington  partakes  of  the  Communion  in  a  Presbyterian  Church — National 
Bankruptcy  threatened — Arrival  of  Lafayette  with  the  news  of  a  large 
French  Force  having  sailed — Noble  Conduct  of  the  Ladies  of  Philadelphia, 
and  of  Robert  Morris,  in  Supplying  the  Soldiers  with  Clothing. 

CHAPTER  XH. 

Fall  of  Charleston — Arrival  of  the  French  Fleet — Defeat  of  Gates — Washington 
visits  Rochambeau — Treason  of  Arnold — Arrest  of  Andre — His  Execution — 
Cornwallis  in  the  South — Project  of  an  Attack  on  New  York — Suffering  of 
the  Troops — Mutiny  in  Wayne's  command — Mutiny  of  the  New  Jersey 
Troops,  and  prompt  action  of  Washington — Inefficiency  of  Congress,  and 
jealousies  of  the  States — Arnold's  Expedition  into  Virginia — Action  between 
the  English  and  French  Fleet — Lafayette  sent  South  to  cooperate  with  Steu- 
ben — Operations  in  Virginia — Washington's  Letter  to  the  Manager  of  his 
Estate— State  of  the  Army — Letter  to  Paul  Jones— Patriotism  of  Robert 
Morris — Washington  prepares  to  attack  New  York — Cornwallis  retreats 
before  Lafayette  to  Yorktown — The  allied  Army  marches  rapidly  South — 
Washington  visits  Mount  Vernon — Arrival  of  the  French  Fleet  in  the  Chesa- 
peake— Anxiety  of  Washington — Yorktown  invested — Progress  and  Inci- 
dents of  the  Siege — Capitulation  of  the  Army — Excitement  and  joy  of  the 
American  People — Effect  of  the  News  on  the  British  Ministry. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Sickness  and  Death  of  young  Custis— Departure  of  the  French  Fleet — Desti- 
nation of  the  Troops— Circular  Letter  to  the  States — Lincoln  Secretary  of 
AVar— Green  around  Charleston— Head-quarters  at  Newburgh — The  Tem- 
ph— Case  of  Captain  Huddy  and  Captain  Asgill— Defeat  of  the  English 
Ministry— Proposal  to  make  Washington  king— Settlement  of  the  case  of 
young  Asgill — Meeting  of  French  and  American  Troops  at  King's  Ferry— 
Destitution  of  the  Officers— Washington's  views  on  the  subject—-'  Newburgh 


TABLE    OF     CONTENTS.  Xlii 

Addresses" — Proclamation  of  Peace — "Washington  addresses  a  Circular 
Letter  to  the  States — Visits  Northern  Battle  Fields — Disbanding  of  the 
Army — Evacuation  of  New  York — Farewell  to  the  Officers — Washington 
surrenders  his  Commission  to  Congress — His  feelings  on  laying  down  power — 
Visits  his  Land  West — Improves  his  Farm — Interview  with  Lafayette,  and 
Letter  to  him  after  his  departure — His  habits  of  life — Inefficiency  of  Con- 
gress— Washington's  views  and  feelings  on  it — Society  of  the  Cincinnati — 
Convention  called  to  form  a  Constitution — Washington  chosen  President — 
The  Constitution— Washington  elected  First  President  of  the  United  States. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Washington  prepares  to  leave  Mount  Vernon — He  visits  Fredericksburg,  to 
take  leave  of  his  Mother — He  departs  for  New  York — The  Journey — Tri- 
umphal Arch  at  Trenton — Reception  at  Elizabethtown — Arrival  and  wel- 
come at  New  York — Installation  of  Washington  as  First  President  of  the 
United  States — He  declines  Compensation  for  his  Services — Illness  and 
Recovery — Debate  on  Titles — Death  of  the  Mother  of  Washington — Organi- 
zation of  the  Departments — Washington  makes  a  Tour  through  the  Eastern 
States — The  Seat  of  Government  is  removed  from  New  York  to  Philadel- 
phia— Establishment  of  a  National  Bank — Washington  Visits  the  Southern 
States — Development  of  Factions — He  desires  to  retire  at  the  close  of  his 
term  of  Administration — Is  induced  to  serve  a  second  time — Re-inaugurated 
President  of  the  United  States — The  French  Revolution — England  declares 
War  against  France — Washington  issues  a  Proclamation  of  strict  neutrality — 
Opposition  and  Enmity — M.  Genet's  Arrival  and  Assumption — Washington 
requests  his  Recall — Relations  with  England — Jay's  Mission — Opposition  to 
the  Tax  on  Distilled  Spirits — Proclamation  to  the  Insurgents — Calling  out 
of  the  Militia — Restoration  of  Peace — Jay's  Treaty — Its  Ratification — Resig- 
nation of  Randolph,  Secretary  of  State — Washington's  Private  Life — De- 
scription of  his  Appearance  on  State  Occasions — Imprisonment  of  Lafayette — 
Washington's  Successful  Intercession  in  his  behalf — Washington's  Farewell 
Address — Election  of  John  Adams — Washington  returns  to  Mount  Vernon — 
His  Life  in  Retirement — Difficulties  with  France — Washington  appointed 
Commandcr-in-Chief — He  returns  to  Philadelphia  to  organize  the  Army — 
Interview  with  Dr.  Logan — Napoleon — Terms  of  Accommodation  at  Paris — 
Washington  at  Mount  Vernon — His  Last  Illness— His  Death — His  Character. 


LIFE  OF  WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Birth  and  Death  of  Great  Men — Ancestry  of  George — Loss  of  his  Father — Sent 
to  District  School — Early  History — Appointed  Surveyor— -Forest  Life — Goes  to 
Barbadoes  with  a  Sick  Brother— Appointed  Major  over  the  Militia — Sent  a  Com- 
missioner to  the  French — Account  of  his  Perilous  Journey. 

NATURE  is  not  lavish  of  prodigies,  and  when  she  gives  us 
one  in  the  human  species,  men  are  always  expecting  she 
will  indicate  it  by  some  outward  sign.  A  lioness  must  cast 
her  whelps  in  the  streets  when  a  monster  is  born — some 
convulsion  of  the  earth,  or  strange  appearance  in  the  hea- 
vens, give  token  when  a  great  soul  has  arrived  on  the 
earth,  whose  life  is  to  change  the  current  of  history.  We 
love  to  associate  mysterious  phenomena  with  strange  and 
mysterious  men.  When  Cromwell's  stormy  spirit  was 
passing  from  this  troubled  sphere,  the  enraged  winds  and 
waves  strewed  the  English  coast  with  stranded  vessels.  As 
Napoleon  lay  struggling  in  the  last  throes  of  mortal  life, 
the  sea  rose  with  a  thundering  sound  over  its  barriers,  as 
if  striving  to  reach  the  spot  where  the  great  sufferer  lay. 

But  no  such  violent  changes  of  nature  heralded  the  birth 
or  accompanied  the  death  of  Washington. 

Serenely  like  the  sun,  as  if  in  harmony  with  the  universe, 
he  arose  on  the  world — so  bright  and  undimmed  he  moved 
over  the  firmament,  and  without  a  cloud  to  dim  his  splendor 
sunk  gloriously  to  rest. 

We  take  a  deep  interest  in  the  childhood  of  great  men, 
for  we  wish  to  detect,  if  possible,  indications  of  their  future 

15 


16  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

greatness,  and  trace  the  mental  processes  by  which  they 
reached  their  elevation.  Our  curiosity  in  this  respect  is 
rather  excited  than  gratified  by  the  meagre  accounts  that 
have  come  down  to  us  of  Washington's  early  days.  There 
are  many  traditions,  all  in  harmony  with  his  general  charac- 
ter, but  not  substantiated  as  matters  of  history.  His  manly 
refusal  to  tell  a  lie  to  escape  punishment,  his  generosity  in 
winning  a  prize,  by  his  superior  strength,  for  another,  and 
his  love  of  the  right  exhibited  in  more  instances  than  one, 
are  so  many  floating  traditions,  which  may  or  may  not  be 
true.  The  retired  place  of  his  birth,  and  the  stern  character 
of  the  times  and  men  that  surrounded  his  earlier  years, 
would  naturally  cause  his  boyish  conduct  to  pass  unnoticed, 
leaving  to  the  mother  alone  the  pleasing  task  of  hoarding 
up  all  his  noble  traits  and  generous  deeds. 

The  ancestor  of  George  held  the  manor  of  Sulgrave,  in 
Northamptonshire,  England,  which  was  granted  to  him  in 
1538.  His  grandson  Lawrence  had  several  children,  two 
of  whom*  (the  second  and  fourth)  emigrated  to  Virginia  in 
1657.  They  bought  plantations  in  Westmoreland,  on  the 
Potomac,  and  became  successful  farmers.  John  Washing- 
ton entered  into  active  service  against  the  Indians,  and  rose 
to  the  rank  of  colonel,  He  had  two  sons  and  a  daughter. 
The  elder  son,  Lawrence,  married  Mildred  Warner,  by  whom 
he  had  three  children,  John,  Augustine,  and  Mildred. 
Augustine,  the  second  son,  married  Jane  Butler,  by  whom 
he  had  four  children,  two  of  whom  dying  in  infancy,  left 
only  Lawrence  and  Augustine.  His  wife  also  dying,  he 
married  in  1730  Mary  Ball,  by  whom  he  had  six  children; 
George,  who  was  born  in  Westmoreland  county,  February 
22d,  1732,  and  Betty,  Samuel,  John,  Augustine,  Charles, 
and  Mildred.  The  latter,  however,  died  in  infancy.  While 
George  was  yet  very  young,  his  father  removed  to  an  estate 

*  John  ami  T.ruvrrnee— the  eldest,  William,  married  a  half-sister  of  George  Vil- 
Lcrs,  Duke  of  Buckingham. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  17 

which  he  owned  in  Stafford  county,  where  he  died  in  1743. 
To  each  of  his  sons  he  left  a  plantation  of  several  hundred 
acres.  To  George,  at  this  time  eleven  years  old,  was 
reserved  the  estate  on  which  he  then  lived.  Four  chil- 
dren younger  than  he  constituted  a  large  family  of  almost 
infants,  to  be  brought  up  by  the  widowed  mother.  But 
she  was  a  woman  of  uncommon  character,  combining  in 
harmonious  proportions  all  those  qualities  necessary  to 
make  the  best  and  noblest  of  our  species — a  good  and  true 
mother.  George  was  her  eldest  born,  on  whom  she  was  to 
rely  in  her  old  age,  and  she  watched  his  early  development 
with  that  solicitude  a  pious  mother  only  knows.  She  saw 
in  him  those  generous  and  noble  traits  which  afterward 
distinguished  him — marked  with  pride  his  manly  scorn  of  a 
lie,  his  hatred  of  wrong  and  oppression,  whatever  the  forms 
they  took,  and  his  enthusiastic  love  of  the  great  and  the 
good.  But  she  saw  also  a  bold  and  impetuous  nature,  which, 
when  thoroughly  roused,  was  not  easily  laid — a  fearlessness 
and  recklessness  of  danger,  that  made  her  heart  tremble,  and 
it  was  with  prayers  and  earnest  teachings,  that  she  sought 
to  place  that  nature  under  the  control  of  reason  and  the  law 
of  right.  Around  that  bold  and  passionate  heart  she  cast 
ligature  after  ligature,  woven  from  truth  and  duty  and 
conscience,  and  bound  them  with  maternal  fondness  there, 
till  even  its  wildest  throbbings  could  not  rend  them 
asunder.  Right  well  and  faithfully  was  her  work  done. 
It  stood  the  fiery  trials  of  youth,  the  storms  of  battle  and 
the  temptations  of  ambition,  and  when  at  last,  conqueror 
and  hero,  he  leaned  his  head,  covered  with  honors,  on  her 
aged  shoulder,  and  wept  as  he  bade  her  farewell  to  take  his 
place  at  the  head  of  the  republic  which  he  had  saved,  she 
reaped  the  fruit  of  her  labors.  How  little  she  knew  what 
destinies  hung  on  her  instructions,  as  that  boy  stood  by  her 
knee  and  listened  to  her  counsel.  With  his  passions 
cultivated  instead  of  restrained,  and  his  reflective  faculties 


18  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

and  conscience  kept  in  abeyance  by  his  strong  impulses,  he 
would  have  made  a  great  and  brilliant  man,  but  never  have 
become  the  founder  of  more  than  an  empire  and  the  beacon 
light  of  the  world. 

At  this  time  only  thinly  populated  and  widely  separated 
settlements  were  scattered  through  Virginia,  so  that  no 
colleges  or  high  schools  had  been  founded.  Parents, 
therefore,  who  wished  to  give  their  sons  a  classical 
education,  were  compelled  to  send  them  to  England.  If 
they  could  not  afford  to  do  this,  they  had  to  fall  back  on  a 
private  tutor,  or  a  district  school  in  which  only  the  common 
rudiments  of  education  were  taught.  To  the  latter  George 
was  sent,  and  it  was  well  that  it  happened  so.  However 
valuable  a  thorough  education  is,  the  mission  George 
Washington  was  to  fulfill  required  that  he  should  be  wholly 
one  of  the  people.  He  could  not  have  been  educated  in 
the  universities  of  Europe,  without  at  the  same  time 
coming  under  influences,  the  whole  tendency  of  which 
would  be  to  unfit  him  for  the  place  assigned  him  by 
Heaven.  Here,  amid  our  primeval  forests,  in  constant 
intercourse  with  the  hardy  settlers,  trained  in  the  rough 
life  of  the  pioneer,  and  representing  in  himself  the  love  of 
the  soil,  the  fearless  independence  and  self-reliance  of  the 
people,  he  became  their  true  representative  and  leader. 

At  thirteen  years  of  age  we  find  him  sitting  in  one  of 
those  humble  school-houses  in  a  Virginia  clearing,  which 
still  form  one  of  the  most  distinctive  characteristics  of 
our  country.  Full  of  lusty  life,  his  shout  rings  over  the 
fields  as  he  bounds  away  from  his  pursuers,  or  his  laugh 
mingles  with  the  rollicking  group,  as  they  wrestle  and  leap 
and  toss  the  bar  in  boyish  rivalry.  One  of  his  graver 
sports  was  to  arrange  his  playmates  in  companies,  and, 
placing  himself  at  their  head,  march  and  countermarch 
them  or  lead  them  to  the  charge  in  mimic  battle.  Bold 
and  athletic,  he  soon  acquired  influence  over  his  companions 


Washington  receiving  Instruction  from  his  Mother. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  21 

by  his  physical  strength,  while,  by  his  probity  and  love 
of  justice,  he  caused  himself  to  be  referred  to  as  arbiter  in 
all  their  quarrels.  His  hand  dealt  swift  punishment  on  acts 
of  meanness  and  oppression,  for  he  would  no  more  suffer 
wrong  than  do  it.  In  school  he  was  as  much  marked  by 
his  application  and  acquirements,  as  he  was  out  of  doors  by 
his  strength  and  agility.  His  taste  in  books  was  uncom- 
monly grave,  and  he  reveals  at  this  early  age  the  systematic 
subjection  to  wholesome  rules  under  which  he  ever  after 
placed  all  his  conduct.  He  formed  little  manuscript  books, 
into  which  he  copied  the  forms  used  by  men  in  transacting 
business,  such  as  bonds,  bills  of  exchange,  notes  of  hand, 
receipts,  etc.  Selections  of  poetry  are  scattered  along, 
evidently  not  such  as  a  boy  would  naturally  prefer.  They 
were  simply  religious  maxims,  and  doubtless  had  been 
hoarded  from  his  mother's  teachings. 

He  made  also  a  large  collection  of  rules  of  behavior, 
which  reveal  a  remarkably  matured  mind  in  one  so  young. 
Many  of  them  would  not  be  comprehended  by  a  boy  of 
thirteen,  much  less  have  arrested  his  attention  and  be  set 
aside  as  guides  to  himself:  such  as  "Gaze  not  on  the 
marks  and  blemishes  of  others,  and  ask  not  how  they 
came."  "  What  you  may  speak  in  secret  to  your  friend, 
deliver  not  before  others."  "  Let  your  recreations  be 
manful,  not  sinful."  "When  you  speak  of  God,  or  his 
attributes,  let  it  be  seriously  and  in  reverence."  "  Honor 
and  obey  your  natural  parents,  although  they  be  poor." 
"Labor  to  keep  alive  in  your  heart  that  little  spark  of 
celestial  fire  called  conscience." 

It  is  certainly  extraordinary  to  see  a  mere  child  thus 
reduce  his  life,  as  it  were,  to  system,  and  shape  all  his 
conduct  to  rules  of  morality.  The  foundation  of  a 
well-balanced  and  virtuous  character,  thus  early  established, 
could  not  but  result  in  a  noble  and  complete  structure.  In 
his  case  the  tree  obeyed  the  inclination  of  the  twig  to 

2 


22  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

perfection,  and  he  grew  up  a  striking  example  of  the 
power  and  benefit  of  right  early  training.  Virtues  planted 
so  deep  in  the  heart  are  proof  against  the  fiercest  storms 
and  severest  temptations  of  life. 

He  had  a  decided  taste  for  mathematics,  which  soon  led 
him  from  the  simple  rules  of  arithmetic,  into  geometry, 
trigonometry  and  surveying ;  and  he  spent  much  of  his 
time  in  surveying  the  lots  around  the  school-house. 

A  fiery  nature,  that  loves  excitement  and  danger,  joined 
to  a  mathematical  taste  and  science,  always  gives  a  strong 
character,  for  it  shows  a  union  of  the  imaginative  and 
reflective  faculties,  of  energy  and  discretion,  impulse  and 
great  accuracy — a  union  which  in  itself  is  power.  Bona- 
parte exhibited  these  traits  of  character  in  an  extraordinary 
degree,  making  him  both  rapid  and  exact — quick  as  the 
lightning's  flash  and  as  certain  of  its  mark. 

How  different  are  the  ways  by  which  Heaven  reaches 
results  from  those  pursued  by  man !  The  wisest  states- 
men of  France  and  England  were  absorbed  in  the  affairs 
of  this  continent,  and  its  fate  depended,  in  their  esti- 
mation, wholly  on  the  wisdom  of  their  management  and 
the  strength  of  their  armies,  while  around  the  form  of  a 
lad  of  thirteen,  in  a  Virginia  school-house,  clustered  its 
entire  destinies. 

Young  Washington  was  not  quite  sixteen,  when,  with 
his  education  completed,  he  left  school  and  launched 
forth  into  active  life.  The  treaty  of  Aix  la  Chapelle,  to 
the  completion  of  which  had  been  given  the  thought  and 
effort  of  the  wisest  diplomatists  in  the  world,  had  just 
closed.  Around  it  had  gathered  the  attention  of  all 
Europe,  but  men  were  mistaken,  the  destinies  did  not 
hover  about  that  imposing  convention,  but  attended  the 
footsteps  of  this  unknown  lad,  as  he  passed  through  the 
forests  of  his  native  land. 

On  apparently  trivial  matters  often  hinge  the  greatest 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  23 

issues.  Lawrence,  the  elder  brother,  having  served  as  an 
officer  in  the  English  navy  under  General  Wentworth  and 
Admiral  Vernon,  in  the  expedition  against  the  West  Indies, 
he  through  them  obtained  a  midshipman's  berth  for  George. 
The  latter  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  thus  opened  to 
him,  and  immediately  began  to  make  preparations  for  join- 
ing his  vessel.  His  mother,  however,  wavered ;  she  could 
not  trust  her  first-born,  her  prop  and  stay,  to  the  dangers 
and  temptations  of  a  naval  life,  and  took  it  to  heart  so 
grievously  that  the  project  was  finally  abandoned.  Once 
locked  up  in  the  British  navy,  and  he  never  could  have 
become  the  leader  of  the  revolutionary  army. 

After  George  left  school  he  went  to  his  brother  Law- 
rence, living  at  Mount  Vernon,  and  passed  the  winter  in 
studying  mathematics  and  in  practical  surveying.  He 
here  became  acquainted  with  the  family  of  Lord  Fairfax, 
whose  daughter  Lawrence  had  married,  and  through  them 
was  introduced  into  the  highest  circles  of  society.  This 
eccentric  but  highly-cultivated  nobleman  took  a  great  fancy 
to  young  George,  and  resolved  to  employ  him  in  surveying 
large  tracts  of  wild  land  which  he  owned  in  the  interior. 
The  young  surveyor  accepted  his  proposals,  and,  setting  out 
in  March,  before  the  snows  had  left  the  summits  of  the 
Alleghany,  entered  the  forest  and  passed  an  entire  month 
amid  the  mountains.  The  third  day  out,  after  working 
hard  till  night,  he  sought  shelter  in  a  miserable  hovel  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  midst  of  a  clearing.  On  retiring  to  bed, 
he  undressed  himself  as  usual,  and  jumped  in.  To  his 
amazement,  however,  he  discovered  that  his  bed  consisted 
of  nothing  but  straw  matted  together,  without  sheets,  and 
covered  with  a  single  dilapidated  blanket,  loaded  down 
"  with  double  its  weight  of  vermin."  His  escapade  from  the 
straw  was  made  with  more  alacrity  than  his  entrance,  and, 
dressing  himself,  he  laid  down  outside.  This  was  his  first 


24 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON 


BOOK  of  6TIRVEYJ 


lesson  in  frontier  life,  and  he  resolved  after  that  to  sleep 
out  under  the  clear  heavens. 

Pushing  his  difficult  way  to  the  Potomac,  he  found  the 
river  swollen  hy  the  melted  snows  of  the  Alleghanies,  and 
rolling  such  a  turbulent  flood  that  it  was  impossible  to  cross 
it.  Waiting  two  days  for  the  waters  to  subside,  he  then 
swam  his  horses  across  and  kept  up  the  Maryland  side,  and 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  25 

in  a  drenching  rain-storm  made  forty  miles,  "over  the 
worst  road  ever  trod  by  man  or  beast."  Halting  for  a  day 
and  a  half,  till  the  storm  broke,  he  came  upon  a  party  of 
thirty  Indians,  returning  from  a  war  expedition.  Following 
the  custom  of  those  days,  he  gave  them  some  rum,  which 
so  exhilarated  them  that  they  resolved  to  entertain  him 
with  a  war-dance.  Building  a  huge  fire,  they  gathered 
around  it,  and,  to  the  din  of  their  wild  music,  treated  the 
young  surveyor  to  a  scene  as  novel  as  it  was  picturesque. 

Thus  day  after  day  he  kept  on,  and  at  length  crossed  the 
first  ridge  of  the  Alleghanies  and  entered  on  an  almost 
untrodden  wilderness,  and  commenced  his  surveys.  Scat- 
tered Dutch  settlers,  that  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English, 
collected  as  he  passed,  and  the  men,  women  and  children, 
with  their  uncouth  language,  streamed  after  him  to  watch 
the  mysterious  process  of  surveying.  They  gathered 
together  round  his  camp-fire,  and  made  the  night  hideous 
with  their  grotesque  appearance  and  half  savage  behavior. 

Young  Washington,  only  sixteen  years  of  age,  sitting  by 
his  camp-fire,  its  ruddy  light  flinging  into  bright  relief  the 
encircling  forest,  whose  trunks,  like  columns  of  some  old 
dimly-lighted  cathedral,  receded  away  in  the  gloom,  sur- 
rounded by  these  half-savage  children  of  the  wilderness, 
would  make  a  good  subject  for  a  painter.  One  night  a 
violent  storm  arose — the  trees  rocked  and  roared  over  head, 
and  the  wind,  dashing  down  amid  the  embers,  whirled  them 
over  the  straw  on  which  he  lay,  setting  it  on  fire.  In  a 
moment  the  camp  was  hi  a  blaze,  and,  but  for  the  sudden 
waking  of  one  of  the  men,  Washington  would  have  been 
wrapped  in  the  flames.  Sometimes  the  wind  would  sud- 
denly shift,  blowing  the  smoke  full  on  the  sleepers,  when 
they  would  be  compelled  to  bivouac  out  amid  the  trees. 

Having  accomplished  the  task  assigned  him  ably,  he 
obtained  the  appointment  of  public  surveyor,  and  for  three 
years,  excepting  the  winter  months,  passed  most  of  his  time 


26  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

in  the  wilderness.  It  was  the  same  succession  of  hardships 
and  exposures.  To-day  swimming  rapid  streams,  to-morrow 
drenched  and  chilled,  picking  his  way  through  the  dripping 
forest — now  reclining  at  the  close  of  the  day  on  some  slope 
of  the  Alleghanies,  and  gazing  off  on  the  autumnal  glories 
of  the  boundless  solitude,  as  it  lay  bathed  in  the  rich  hues 
of  the  setting  sun ;  and  again,  pitching  his  tent,  beside  his 
lonely  camp-fire,  whose  light  paled  before  the  flashes  that 
rent  the  gloom,  while  the  peals  of  thunder  that  reverbe- 
rated along  the  cliffs  seemed  trebly  fearful  in  that  far-off 
wilderness,  he  passed  through  scenes  calculated  to  make  a 
heart  naturally  bold  impervious  to  fear,  and  an  iron  consti- 
tution doubly  insensible  to  fatigue.  A  better  training  to 
impart  self-reliance  and  coolness  in  the  hour  of  peril,  and 
indomitable  energy,  could  not  have  been  furnished,  while 
those  moral  qualities  which,  amid  the  false  tastes  of  more 
cultivated  life,  might  have  sickened,  could  not  but  be 
strengthened  by  these  long  and  glorious  communions  with 
nature.  God  sent  Moses  forty  years  in  the  wilderness 
before  he  would  allow  him  to  lead  his  chosen  people  to 
the  land  of  Canaan.  So  did  Washington  pass  a  long  novi- 
tiate amid  the  solitudes  of  his  native  country,  the  better  to 
prepare  him  to  lead  the  children  of  freedom  to  peace  and 
security. 

How  little  he  imagined,  as  he  stood  on  some  ridge  of  the 
Alleghanies,  and  looked  off  on  the  sinking  and  swelling 
forests  beyond,  that  in  a  short  time  those  solitudes  would 
be  filled  with  the  hum  of  cities,  and  that  on  these  very 
summits  would  meet  from  either  side  the  shout  of  millions 
on  millions  of  free  people,  sending  still  higher,  in  reverence 
and  transport,  his  own  great  name  to  the  skies.  Of  all  the 
gorgeous  visions  that  flitted  before  his  youthful  imagina- 
tion— of  all  the  strange  and  marvelous  destinies  that  the 
young  heart  will  dream  of,  none  were  so  strange  and  mar- 
velous as  that  which  actually  befell  him. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  27 

During  all  this  time  he  was  a  slave  to  that  tender  passion 
to  which  the  strongest  of  our  race,  in  the  midst  of  their 
power,  have  fallen  helpless  victims.  Its  object,  history  and 
issue,  remain  in  obscurity.  He  has  left  only  here  and  there 
a  memento  of  the  inward  struggle.  An  occasional  sonnet 
to  his  lowland  beauty,  a  melancholy  tone  pervading  his  let- 
ters at  this  time,  shows  that  he  suffered  deeply,  but  whether 
from  rejected  love,  or  from  the  effort  to  subdue  an  affection 
which  circumstances  forbade  him  to  cherish,  is  not  known. 

In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  after  speaking  of  the  pleasures  he 
derived  from  correspondence  with  those  he  loved,  he  says, 
"  My  place  of  residence,  at  present,  is  at  his  lordship's 
(Lord  Fairfax,)  where  I  might,  were  my  heart  disengaged, 
pass  my  time  very  pleasantly,  as  there  is  a  very  agreeable 
young  lady  in  the  same  house,  Colonel  George  Fairfax's 
wife's  sister.  But  that  only  adds  fuel  to  the  fire,  as  being 
often  and  unavoidably  in  company  with  her,  revives  my 
former  passion  for  your  lowland  beauty ;  whereas,  were  I 
to  live  more  retired  from  young  women,  I  might,  in  some 
measure,  alleviate  my  sorrow  by  burying  that  chaste  and 
troublesome  passion  in  oblivion,  and  1  am  very  well  assured 
that  this  will  be  the  only  antidote  or  remedy." 

This  lowland  beauty  was  all  the  world  to  the  young  sur- 
veyor for  awhile,  and  how  he  succeeded  in  driving  her  at 
last  from  his  heart,  does  not  appear,  but  probably  more 
exciting  scenes  effaced  the  impression  which  he  would  not 
allow  to  be  kept  fresh  by  personal  intercourse. 

That  Washington  was  something  more  than  an  able 
and  faithful  surveyor,  is  evident  from  the  great  confi- 
dence reposed  in  him  by  the  government.  We  have 
not  the  complete  history  of  the  boy-man.  He  must 
have  exhibited  more  extraordinary  qualities  than  appear 
on  the  surface,  to  have  been  chosen,  as  he  was  at 
this  time,  though  but  nineteen  years  of  age,  commander  of 
one  of  the  districts  of  the  province  which  had  been  set  off 


28  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

in  order  to  organize  more  effectually  the  militia,  to  resist 
the  depredations  of  the  Indians.  His  title  was  that  of  adju- 
tant-general, with  the  rank  of  major. 

Young  Washington  had  now  got  into  the  profession  best 
suited  to  his  tastes,  and  he  immediately  commenced  studying 
military  tactics,  and  practicing  the  sword  exercise,  until  he 
became  familiar  with  the  one,  and  very  skillful  in  the  use 
of  the  other.  He  had,  however,  hardly  begun  his  military 
service,  into  which  he  entered  with  all  his  heart,  when  he 
was  compelled  for  a  time  to  abandon  it.  His  brother  Law- 
rence, who  had  been  for  some  time  slowly  sinking  under  a 
pulmonary  disease,  was  advised  by  his  physician  to  seek 
a  warmer  climate.  Not  wishing  in  his  delicate  state  of 
health  to  go  alone,  he  took  his  favorite  brother,  George, 
with  him,  and  sailed  for  Barbadoes  in  September,  1751. 

They  were  five  weeks  in  making  the  voyage.  Change 
of  climate,  however,  wrought  no  permanent  change  for  the 
better  in  the  invalid,  and  after  staying  a  few  weeks  on  the 
island,  he  resolved  to  return  to  Bermuda.  In  the  mean 
time,  George  was  seized  with  the  small-pox,  and  lay  con- 
fined for  three  weeks.  Immediately  on  his  recovery,  he 
was  dispatched  by  his  brother  to  Virginia,  to  bring  his  wife 
to  Bermuda,  to  join  him  there.  His  passage  home  was  a 
long  and  stormy  one.  He  was  absent  in  all  four  months. 
His  brother,  finding  that  he  continued  to  grow  worse,  wrote 
home,  requesting  his  wife  not  to  join  him.  He  lingered  on 
till  summer,  when  he  came  home,  and  rapidly  sank  into  the 
grave. 

George  being  left  one  of  the  executors  of  his  brother's 
property,  which  was  very  large,  his  time  for  awhile  became 
almost  exclusively  occupied  in  taking  care  of  it.  Mount 
Vernon,  with  other  estates,  had  been  left  to  the  only  sur- 
viving daughter,  but  in  case  she  died  without  children,  they 
were  to  go  to  George. 

In  the  mean  time  Governor  Dinwiddie  had  divided  Vir- 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  29 

ginia  into  four  military  divisions,  and  appointed  Washing- 
ton, whose  commission  had  been  renewed,  over  the  northern. 
This  division  covered  a  large  territory,  which  he  was 
required  to  visit  at  stated  intervals.  The  militia  in  the 
various  sections  were  mustered  to  receive  him  when  he 
came,  and  he  reviewed  and  instructed  them,  as  well  as  the 
officers,  in  the  duties  of  their  calling.  Very  tall  and  finely 
formed,  he  was  at  this  time  the  impersonation  of  a  fine 
military  character,  and  carried  all  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
ardent  nature  into  the  profession  so  congenial  to  his  tastes, 
and  so  in  accordance  with  his  love  of  excitement  and 
adventure. 

The  French  and  English  were  at  this  time  contending  for 
the  mastery  of  the  continent.  The  latter  occupied  the 
Atlantic  slope,  while  Canada  was  in  possession  of  the 
former,  who  were  making  vigorous  efforts  to  control  the 
western  lakes  and  rivers  south  to  the  mouth  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  thus  shut  up  the  English  east  of  the  Alleghany 
Mountains.  Intelligence  was  soon  received  that  they  had 
already  crossed  over  from  Canada,  and  were  erecting  fortifi- 
cations and  establishing  posts  along  the  Ohio.  This  was 
crowding  close  upon  the  Virginia  province,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  it  unsettled  the  Indians,  hitherto  at  peace,  so 
that  an  ominous  cloud  was  gathering  on  the  frontier.  Eng- 
land had  anticipated  this  state  of  things,  and  sent  over 
orders  to  have  two  forts  built  on  the  Ohio,  and  dispatched 
thirty  cannon,  with  ammunition,  to  defend  them.  The 
French,  however,  had  outstripped  the  slow  movements  of 
their  rival,  for  they  had  already  commenced  a  line  of  mili- 
tary posts,  to  extend  from  New  Orleans  to  Canada.  Their 
claims  to  this  vast  territory  were  based  on  the  right  of 
discovery  and  the  stipulations  of  European  treaties  to  which 
England  acceded,  viz.,  that  France  should  retain  all  her 
actual  possessions  in  America.  By  an  extraordinary  con- 
struction the  latter  insisted  that  having  discovered  the 


30  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Mississippi  river,  she  had  a  right  to  all  the  territories 
through  which  its  waters  flowed.  Equally  absurd  with  this 
claim  was  that  of  England,  who  based  her  right  on  Indian 
treaties,  although  the  tribes  with  which  she  made  them  had 
no  more  power  to  cede  away  the  land  west  of  the  Ohio, 
than  they  had  that  west  of  the  Mississippi.  On  their  vague 
assertion  that  they  had  at  some  former  time  conquered  it, 
although  the  present  savage  occupants  yielded  them  no 
allegiance,  and  denied  their  pretensions,  the  English  made 
a  treaty  with  them  including  vast  territories  occupied  by 
other  independent  tribes.  The  Indians  might  well  be 
astonished  at  the  turn  things  had  taken,  and  be  puzzled  to 
know  what  course  to  pursue.  They  asked  Mr.  Gist,  who 
had  been  sent  by  Governor  Dinwiddie  to  trade  with  them, 
"whereabout  the  Indian  lands  lay,  as  the  French  claimed  all  on 
one  side  of  the  Ohio,  and  the  English  all  on  the  other."  The 
claims  of  both  England  and  France  rested  on  a  miserable 
foundation  enough ;  but,  so  far  as  the  two  nations  were 
concerned,  the  latter  had  clearly  the  advantage.  It  was 
evident,  however,  that  might  was  to  settle  the  question. 

As  a  first  step,  Governor  Dinwiddie  resolved  to  send  a 
commissioner  to  the  French  commander  on  the  Ohio,  and 
demand  why  he  invaded  his  British  majesty's  dominions, 
and  what  he  proposed  to  do.  To  undertake  this,  through 
nearly  six  hundred  miles  of  forest  filled  with  Indians  and 
crossed  only  by  trails,  required  a  man  of  no  common  intrepi- 
dity, fortitude,  energy,  skill  and  daring. 

There  needs  no  stronger  proof  of  the  high  estimation  in 
which  young  Washington,  then  only  twenty-one  years  old, 
was  held,  than  the  selection  of  him  to  perform  this  hazard- 
ous mission.  The  oldest  frontiersman  might  well  have 
shrunk  from  it,  for  it  would  task  the  hardihood  and  endu- 
rance of  a  man  trained  a  life-long  in  the  woods. 

His  instructions  were,  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  Ohio, 
and,  assembling  the  neighboring  Indian  chiefs  at  a  place 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  31 

called  Logstown,  explain  his  visit,  and  request  an  escort  of 
warriors  to  the  French  post.  After  delivering  his  message 
and  demanding  an  answer,  he  was  to  ascertain,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  number,  position  and  designs  of  the  French. 

Thus  fortified  with  instructions,  he  set  out  on  the  last  day 
of  October,  and,  after  a  journey  of  fourteen  days,  reached 
Will's  Creek,  the  utmost  verge  of  civilization.  Here  he 
found  Mr.  Gist,  an  old  and  experienced  backwoodsman,  and 
engaged  him  as  a  guide.  With  a  French  and  Indian  inter- 
preter, two  Indian  traders  and  two  drivers,  making  in  all 
eight  persons,  he  left  the  haunts  of  the  white  man,  and, 
striking  an  Indian  trail,  stretched  through  the  wilderness. 
Floundering  through  swamps,  swimming  deep  rivers,  and 
straining  up  the  steep  mountains,  the  little  company  kept 
on  its  difficult  way,  and  at  length  reached  the  junction  of 
the  Alleghany  and  Monongahela.  Washington's  quick  eye 
saw  at  once  the  advantages  of  the  place,  both  for  a  fortifi- 
cation and  a  depot  for  provisions,  and  by  his  advice  a  mili- 
tary post  was  afterward  established  there.  Pushing  on  to 
Logstown,  he  assembled  a  few  Indian  chiefs  and  made  them 
a  speech.  Among  these,  one  called  the  Half-King  was  the 
most  distinguished.  Persuading  him,  with  three  other 
Indians,  to  accompany  him  as  guides,  the  young  major 
started  for  the  French  fortification,  a  hundred  and  twenty 
miles  distant.  St.  Pierre,  the  commander  of  the  post,  an 
old  man  and  a  knight,  received  him  with  marked  urbanity. 
He  promised  to  take  Governor  Dinwiddie's  communication 
into  consideration,  and  after  two  days  gave  his  reply,  declar- 
ing it  was  not  for  him  to  discuss  treaties,  but  obey  orders, 
and  he  should  not  leave  his  post  till  commanded  to  do  so. 

During  this  time  Washington  was  examining  the  fort, 
making  drawings  of  the  works,  and  noting  down  the  num- 
ber of  cannon  and  men  and  strength  of  the  post. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  December ;  the  heavy  and 
incessant  rain-storms  had  turned  into  snow,  obliterating  the 


32  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

paths  and  covering  the  forest  with  one  vast  winding-sheet. 
Fearing  that  the  snow  would  become  so  deep  that  the  horses 
would  break  down  in  their  long  journey  across  the  wilder- 
ness, he  sent  them  back  to  Venango,  to  wait  there  and 
recruit,  while  he  made  the  passage  down  the  river  in  a 
canoe. 

The  French  commandant  used  every  artifice  to  detach 
the  Half-King  from  "Washington,  and,  not  succeeding,  deter- 
mined to  detain  him  till  the  latter  was  gone.  But  the 
young  major,  feeling  how  important  it  was  to  keep  as  allies 
the  tribes  over  which  this  chief  had  influence,  was  resolved 
not  to  leave  without  him.  Winter  was  deepening,  and  he 
was  anxious  to  be  off,  and  he  remonstrated  with  the  French 
commandant  on  the  unfair  course  he  was  taking.  But 
every  appeal  of  the  straight-forward  Virginian  was  met 
with  the  bland  smile  and  courteous  denial  of  a  true  French- 
man. Being  pushed,  however,  to  give  a  reason  for  the 
detention  of  the  savage  chief,  the  wary  old  knight  replied 
that  the  latter  was  waiting  for  the  present  of  a  gun  pro- 
mised him  next  morning. 

The  Half-King,  having  at  length  obtained  his  gun,  pre- 
pared to  leave  ;  but  the  French  commandant,  still  intent  on 
retaining  him,  endeavored  to  get  him  drunk.  Washington, 
however,  never  left  the  Indian's  side,  and  by  plying  him 
with  appeals  and  remonstrances,  and  pressing  on  him  the 
necessity  of  keeping  his  sacred  promise,  at  length  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  him  depart. 

Embarking  in  a  single  ca  oe,  they  pushed  out  into  the 
turbulent  river,  and  started  for  Venango,  one  hundred  and 
thirty  miles  distant.  It  was  a  perilous  voyage,  for  the 
stream  was  swollen  and  filled  with  uprooted  trees  and  drift- 
wood, that  were  hurled  along  the  rapid  current  on  which 
their  frail  vessel  danced  like  a  feather.  As  ni^ht  closed 

O 

over  the  forest  the  canoe  was  hauled  on  shore,  a  fire  built, 
and   the   party  bivouacked   on   the  icy  bank   till  morning. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  35 

With  the  dawn  the  boat  was  again  launched,  and  went 
flying  down  the  stream,  requiring  all  the  vigilance  of  eye 
and  hand  to  keep  it  from  being  wrecked.  Now  they  would 
shoot  straight  toward  a  rock,  around  which  the  water 
foamed  and  boiled  in  fierce  eddies — again  glance  away  from 
a  cliff,  against  which  they  threatened  to  dash,  and  at  last 
grounded  on  a  deceitful  shoal,  compelling  the  whole  party 
to  disembark  in  the  icy  water.  The  savage  king  and  the 
tall  young  envoy  had  to  wade  along,  side  by  side,  dragging 
the  boat  for  half  an  hour  over  the  pebbles  before  they  could 
get  into  deep  water  again,  and  then,  chilled  and  dripping, 
continue  their  voyage.  At  length  they  came  upon  a  barri- 
cade of  ice,  stretching  completely  across  the  channel. 
Around  this  the  canoe  had  to  be  carried  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile.  They  were  a  whole  week  making  this  hundred  and 
thirty  miles. 

Having  at  last  reached  Venango,  Washington  bade  the 
Half-King  good-by,  with  much  good  advice  not  to  let  the 
fine  speeches  of  the  French  detach  him  from  his  friendship 
to  the  English,  and  next  day  struck  into  the  wilderness. 
The  horses,  however,  were  feeble  and  emaciated,  and  being 
overloaded  with  provisions  which  the  party  were  obliged  to 
carry  with  them,  soon  began  to  show  symptoms  of  giving 
out.  In  order  to  relieve  them  as  much  as  possible,  Wash- 
ington gave  up  his  own  animal  for  a  pack-horse,  and, 
dressed  in  an  Indian  hunting-shirt,  waded  on  foot  through 
the  forest.  But  the  cold  becoming  intense,  and  the  soft 
snow  freezing  hard,  through  which  the  horses  floundered 
with  difficulty,  it  was  evident  they  could  not  proceed ;  so 
after  the  third  day,  he  left  them  and  the  party  in  charge  of 
Mr.  Vanbraam,  and  with  Mr.  Gist  alone  set  out  for  the  dis- 
tant colonies.  The  tall,  handsome,  and  athletic  young 
Virginian,  in  his  closely  fitting  Indian  costume,  his  pack  on 
his  back,  his  knife  in  his  belt,  and  his  trusty  rifle  in  his 
hand,  presented  a  fine  contrast  to  the  brawny  backwoods- 


36  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

man  by  his  side,  as  they  passed  through  the  primeval  forest 
together.  At  the  approach  of  night  they  kindled  a  fire, 
and  scraping  the  snow  from  a  fallen  tree  for  their  table,  and 
cutting  pieces  of  bark  for  plates,  ate  with  a  keen  appetite 
their  coarse  supper.  Then  wrapping  themselves  in  their 
blankets,  with  the  snow  for  their  couch,  and  the  sparkling 
wintry  heavens  for  their  canopy,  they  lay  down  to  sleep. 
With  the  first  streakings  of  dawn  they  were  again  afoot, 
'  and  through  the  blinding  storm  and  under  the  trees  that 
swayed  and  groaned  in  the  fierce  December  blast,  strained 
up  the  steep  mountain  sides,  or  threaded  the  dark  gorges 
with  unflagging  spirits  and  undaunted  hearts.  On  approach- 
ing a  spot  called  Murdering  Town,  upon  a  fork  of  Beaver 
creek,  they  met  an  Indian,  whom  Gist  was  sure  he  had  seen 
at  Venango,  and  whose  appearance  was  suspicious.  He, 
however,  seemed  very  friendly,  was  loquacious,  asking  many 
questions  about  the  party  behind,  their  horses,  etc.,  and 
when  they  would  be  along.  Major  Washington  wished  to 
go  the  shortest  route  to  the  forks  of  the  Alleghany,  and 
asked  the  Indian  if  he  would  be  their  guide.  He  readily 
consented,  and  taking  the  major's  pack  started  off.  But 
after  traveling  eight  or  ten  miles,  Washington  declared  that 
his  feet  was  sore,  his  limbs  weary,  and  he  must  halt.  To 
this  the  Indian  objected,  grew  churlish,  and  offered  to  carry 
Washington's  gun,  if  he  would  go  on.  He  said  the  Ottaway 
Indians  occupied  the  woods,  and  if  they  laid  out  they  would 
be  scalped,  and  urged  them  to  go  to  his  cabin,  from  which 
he  declared  he  just  then  heard  a  signal  gun,  where  they 
would  be  safe.  They  kept  on  for  awhile,  but  Washing- 
ton's experienced  eye  soon  discovering  that  they  were  going 
the  wrong  course,  he  became  uneasy  and  remonstrated  with 
him.  The  latter,  to  pacify  him,  harkened  a  moment,  and 
then  declared  he  heard  two  whoops  from  his  cabin.  Wash- 
ington then  went  two  miles  farther  on,  when  he  declared 
that  at  the  next  water  he  came  to  he  would  halt.  Before 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  37 

they  reached  it,  however,  they  emerged  into  an  open  space, 
on  the  even  snow  surface  of  which  the  bright  moonlight  lay. 
The  Indian  was  some  distance  ahead,  but  kept  his  wary  eye 
on  his  victims,  and,  as  they  stepped  from  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  forest  into  the  clear  light,  suddenly  turned,  and 
leveled  his  rifle.  The  next  instant  a  quick,  sharp  report 
rang  through  the  woods.  Washington  immediately  cried 
out  to  Gist,  "Are  you  shot?"  "No,"  replied  the  latter, 
and  sprang  towards  the  savage,  who  had  leaped  behind  a 
big  oak,  and  begun  rapidly  to  reload  his  piece.  Washing- 
ton reached  the  treacherous  guide  at  the  same  time  with 
Gist,  but,  instead  of  seizing  him,  stood  by  and  saw  him  ram 
home  a  ball  without  manifesting  any  suspicion,  pretending, 
on  the  contrary,  to  believe  that  he  considered  the  shot  as  a 
signal  to  those  in  his  cabin.  Gist  then  told  Washington  he 
must  kill  the  traitor  on  the  spot.  The  latter  objected — he 
could  not  consent  to  murder  the  poor  wretch  there  in  cold 
blood,  richly  as  he  deserved  such  a  fate.  Gist  replied  that 
he  must  then  be  got  away,  and  they  travel  all  night. 

Their  position  had  now  become  critical ;  that  rifle  shot 
might  have  had  a  double  purpose — to  send  one  of  them  to 
his  long  account,  and  at  the  same  time  be  a  signal  to  com- 
panions near  by,  whose  wild  hoop  might  at  any  moment 
break  on  their  startled  ears. 

They,  however,  took  the  Indian  with  them,  till  they  came 
to  a  little  run  of  water,  where  they  compelled  him  to  make 
a  fire.  The  guns  were  stacked  against  a  tree,  but  either 
Gist  or  Washington  always  stood  by  them.  The  keen  sav- 
age saw  he  was  suspected,  and  grew  uneasy.  He  still  de- 
clared, however,  that  his  cabin  was  but  a  little  way  off,  and 
he  could  soon  reach  it.  Gist  then  gave  him  bread,  and  told 
him  to  go  home  and  fetch  them  some  meat  in  the  morning, 
while  they,  as  they  were  tired,  would  encamp  where  they 
were.  The  fellow  was  glad  to  get  off,  and,  shouldering  his 
rifle,  disappeared  in  the  forest.  Gist  followed  him  stealthily 


38  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

some  distance  and  then  returned.  The  two  adventurers  then 
went  on  about  half  a  mile  and  built  a  fire.  By  its  light  they 
set  their  compass,  took  their  course,  and  started  forward. 
Knowing  that  the  Indians,  if  really  in  pursuit,  would  take 
their  trail  as  soon  as  it  was  morning,  they  kept  up  a  tre- 
mendous pace  all  night.  Nor  did  they  slacken  it  at  day- 
light, except  to  snatch  a  mouthful  of  food,  but,  weary  and 
sore  as  they  were,  traveled  all  day.  Two  days  and  a  night 
on  the  stretch,  without  a  path  to  guide  them,  was  terrific 
work ;  but  it  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  and  they 
never  halted  till  dark,  when  they  struck  the  Alleghany  river. 
They  had  expected  to  find  this  frozen  over,  and  put  it  be- 
tween them  and  their  pursuers  before  stopping ;  but  the  ice 
extended  only  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  either 
shore,  while  the  channel  between  was  swollen  and  angry, 
and  loaded  with  huge  fragments  of  ice  which  had  broken 
loose  from  above.  This  abrupt  termination  of  their  jour- 
ney was  heart-sickening  enough ;  and  as  the  two  weary 
travelers  stood  on  the  ice-bound  shore  and  gazed  on  the  ap- 
palling spectacle,  they  felt  that  the  crisis  of  their  fate  had 
come.  There  was  no  escape,  and  if  the  savages  continued 
their  pursuit,  they  must  fight  them  there,  whatever  their 
numbers  might  be.  Nothing,  however,  was  to  be  done,  and 
wrapping  themselves  in  their  blankets,  they  lay  down  upon 
the  snow  and  listened  to  the  grinding,  crushing  sound  of  the 
ice  as  it  drifted  down  in  the  gloom.  The  ear  was  constantly 
turned  to  catch  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  while 
the  lonely  cries  that  rose  from  the  forest  combined  to  render 
the  night  long  and  dreary.  At  daylight  they  rose  from 
their  unquiet,  fitful  slumbers  and  began  to  prepare  a  raft, 
on  which  they  could  float  across.  With  but  "  one  poor 
hatchet,"  to  hew  down  the  trees,  they  commenced  their  ar- 
duous task.  Its  tiny  strokes  made  feeble  echoes  along  that 
wintry  stream,  and  it  was  night- fall  before  the  raft  was  com- 
pleted. They  then  slid  it  on  the  ice  to  the  edge,  and,  as  it 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  39 

fell  heavily  in  the  water,  jumped  upon  it.  Caught  by  the 
current,  it  was  whirled  rapidly  down.  They  had  not 
proceeded  far,  however,  before  the  descending  fragments  of 
ice  so  pressed  upon  and  jammed  it  against  other  pieces, 
that  it  began  to  sink.  Washington  immediately  struck  his 
setting-pole  heavily  into  the  mud  at  the  bottom,  to  arrest 
the  raft  till  the  ice  crowded  by.  But  the  weight  of  the  ice 
and  raft  together  was  so  great,  that,  when  the  latter  came 
in  contact  with  the  pole,  Washington,  who  had  grasped  it 
firmly,  was  jerked  over,  and  fell  in  ten  feet  water.  He, 
however,  succeeded  in  getting  hold  of  one  of  the  logs,  and 
held  on  while  the  whole  mass  swept  together  down  the 
stream.  Their  position  now  was  perilous  in  the  extreme — 
in  the  middle  of  the  channel,  carried  resistlessly  forward  by 
the  current  and  the  ice,  they  could  reach  neither  shore. 
Fortunately  they  drifted  near  a  small  island,  when,  as  a 
last  resort,  the}''  both  abandoned  the  raft  and  made  for  it. 
Here  on  this  mere  rock,  with  an  angry  and  turbulent  river 
on  either  side,  with  no  materials  to  construct  a  new  raft, 
with  no  fire,  wet  to  the  skin,  they  were  compelled  to  pass 
the  long  winter's  night.  To  add  to  their  discomfort,  the 
night  set  in  intensely  cold,  and  it  required  the  most  un- 
wearied efforts  and  constant  exercise  to  keep  from  freezing. 
As  it  was,  Mr.  Gist's  hands  and  feet  were  both  frozen,  and 
Washington  escaped  only  by  his  great  powers  of  endur- 
ance, inherent  in  his  constitution,  and  strengthened  by  his 
long  exposure  in  the  woods  and  mountains.  The  frost, 
however,  which  well-nigh  deprived  them  of  life,  proved 
their  salvation,  for  it  formed  a  bridge  of  ice  between  the 
island  and  eastern  shore  sufficiently  strong  to  bear  them. 
Crossing  cautiously  on  this,  they  the  same  day  reached  a 
trading  post  of  Mr.  Frazier,  near  the  spot  where  afterward 
the  battle  of  Monongahela  was  fought.  Here  they 
remained  several  days,  to  procure  horses  with  which  to 
continue  their  journey.  In  the  mean  time  Washington 

3 


40  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

paid  a  visit  to  queen  Aliquippa,  residing  near,  who  had 
been  very  much  offended  that  he  did  not  stop  to  see  her 
on  his  outward  journey.  An  ample  apology,  an  overcoat, 
and  a  bottle  of  rum,  especially  the  latter,  restored  her  good 
humor. 

Leaving  this  trading  post  the  second  of  January, 
Washington  continued  his  journey  on  horseback.  The 
intense  cold,  followed  by  rain  storms,  melted  snow  and 
swollen  rivers,  combined  to  render  the  termination  of  his 
route  almost  as  painful  as  the  middle  portion  of  it,  but  after 
fifteen  days  of  hard  labor,  he  reached  Williamsburg,  having 
been  absent  in  all  eleven  weeks.  He  had  accomplished 
the  task  assigned  him  to  the  letter,  and  performed  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  expeditions  on  record.  It  is 
impossible,  at  this  time,  to  conceive  all  the  difficulties  that 
beset  it.  But  whether  we  take  into  consideration  the  time 
required  to  complete  it,  the  country  through  which  it  led — 
a  vast,  untrodden  wilderness,  crossed  by  mountain  ranges, 
intersected  by  swollen  rivers,  and  filled  with  lawless 
savages — or  the  season  of  the  year  selected — mid-winter — 
when  the  difficulties  of  the  way  were  increased  ten-fold  by 
the  deep  snows,  frosts,  and  sudden  thaws,  and  incessant 
storms,  or  the  long  and  dreadful  exposures,  borne  without 
flinching,  it  certainly  stands  without  a  parallel  in  the 
history  of  our  country.  From  first  to  last  Washington  had 
shown  himself  a  most  extraordinary  young  man.  A  mere 
stripling  of  twenty-one,  he  exhibited  all  the  energy,  self- 
reliance,  endurance,  tact,  and  courage  of  the  most 
experienced  man  and  veteran.  As  one  in  imagination 
beholds  him  in  his  Indian  dress,  his  pack  on  his  back,  his 
gun  in  his  hand,  stealing  through  the  snow-covered  forest 
at  midnight,  or  plunging  about  in  the  wintry  stream  in  the 
struggle  for  life,  or,  wrapped  in  his  blanket,  sleeping  beside 
the  ice-filled  river,  lulled  by  its  sullen  roar,  he  cannot  but 
feel  that  lie  beholds  a  being  whom  angels  guarded  through 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  41 

the  terrible  training  which  can  alone  fit  him  for  the  great 
duties  and  trials  that  await  him. 

Washington  was  highly  complimented  for  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  executed  the  commission  that  had  been 
entrusted  to  him.  His  journal  was  printed  and  copied  in 
the  colonial  newspapers.  The  English  government  at 
home  had  it  reprinted,  for  it  possessed  peculiar  value, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  the  first  clear  exposition  of  the  designs 
of  the  French  on  this  continent,  and  the  first  reliable 
information  respecting  their  past  movements.  Washington 
had  ascertained,  not  only  how  matters  stood  on  the  Ohio 
and  the  lakes,  but  also  obtained  accurate  information  of  the 
number  and  strength  of  their  posts  and  garrisons  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  The  extraordinary  character  of 
their  claims,  demanding  all  the  territory  washed  by  the 
Mississippi  and  its  branches,  aroused  the  English  govern- 
ment to  the  necessity  of  immediate  action. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  H. 

Washington  sent  against  the  French — Hostilities  of  the  latter — Fort  Duquesne — 
Difficulties  of  the  March — Dangerous  Explorations — Message  from  the  Half- 
King — Night  March — Attack  on  Jumonville — Feelings  of  Washington  in  his 
First  Battle — Final  Results  of  it — Fort  Necessity — Battle  of  the  Great  Meadows — 
Washington  Capitulates — Resigns  in  disgust  his  Commission — Tart  Refusal  to 
join  the  Army  under  Governor  Sharpe — Accepts  Braddock's  Request  to  act  as 
Volunteer  Aid — Is  taken  Sick — Joins  the  Army— Battle  of  Monongahela — 
Bravery  of  Washington — The  Retreat — Death  of  Braddock — Washington  reads 
the  Funeral  Service — Burial  by  Torch-light — Scenes  around  Fort  Duquesne — 
Demoniacal  Jubilee  of  the  Indians — Washington  at  Mount  Vernon — Disgust 
with  the  Government — Appointed  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Virginia  Forces — 
Head-quarters  at  Winchester — Inroads  of  the  Indians — Terror  of  the  Settlers — 
Sternness  of  Washington — False  Rumors — Difficulty  with  Captain  Dagworthy — 
Goes  to  Boston  to  refer  it  to  Governor  Shirley — Reception  on  the  way — Falls  in 
love  with  Miss  Phillips  of  New  York — His  Return. 

IMMEDIATELY  on  the  return  of  Washington,  Governor 
Dinwiddie  called  his  council  together  and  laid  before  it  the 
letter  of  the  French  commander,  and  the  report  of  his 
commissioners.  It  was  resolved  at  once  to  repel  this 
invasion  of  the  king's  dominions  hy  force  of  arms.  To 
effect  this,  an  enlistment  of  two  companies  of  one  hundred 
men  each  was  advised,  who  should  proceed  without  delay 
to  the  Ohio,  and  erect  a  fort  on  its  banks.  If  there  were 
not  a  sufficient  number  of  volunteers  to  make  up  the 
quota,  drafts  were  ordered  to  be  made  on  the  militia. 
Washington  was  appointed  commander  of  this  small  force, 
the  chief  object  of  which  was  to  bisect  the  operations  of  the 
French,  and  prevent  them  from  completing  their  chain  of 
posts  from  Canada  to  New  Orleans.  He  was  stationed  at 
Alexandria  to  enlist  recruits  and  dispatch  forward  the 
cannon  for  the  fort  which  the  Ohio  company  had  agreed  to 
build. 

The  Legislature  met  in  February,  1754,  but  the  feelings 
of  the  members  were  not  at  all  in  harmony  with  the 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  43 

warlike  spirit  of  the  governor — indeed  some  of  them  de- 
clared they  could  not  see  what  right  England  had  to  those 
lands.  The  loyal  old  governor  "  fired  at  this,"  to  think 
that  "  an  English  Legislature  should  presume  to  doubt  the 
right  of  his  Majesty  to  the  back  of  his  dominions."  Ten 
thousand  pounds,  however,  were  voted  for  the  defense  of 
the  colony,  which  gave  the  governor  great  satisfaction,  but 
his  ire  was  again  aroused  when  commissioners  were  ap- 
pointed to  superintend  the  disbursement  of  this  fund.  He 
nevertheless  went  diligently  to  work,  and  ordered  four  more 
companies  to  be  raised,  making  six  in  all.  Colonel  Joshua 
Fry  was  appointed  commander  of  these,  with  Washington 
raised  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel,  his  second  in  com- 
mand. The  governor  was  authorized  to  call  for  two  inde- 
pendent companies  from  New  York,  and  one  from  South 
Carolina.  These  were  immediately  sent  for,  and  in  the 
meantime  the  cheering  news  came  from  North  Carolina  that 
she  would  soon  have  a  force  in  the  field  to  help  repel  the 
common  invader. 

Washington  having  completed  two  companies,  in  all  one 
hundred  and  fifty,  self-willed,  ungovernable  men,  left  Alex- 
andria in  April,  and  marched  for  the  Ohio,  where  he  was 
ordered  to  complete  the  fort  there  which  a  party  of  men, 
under  Captain  Trent,  were  erecting,  and  to  make  prisoners, 
kill  and  destroy  all  who  interrupted  the  English  settlements. 
His  march  was  slow  and  difficult,  and  before  he  reached 
Will's  Creek,  the  French  had  descended  from  Venango,  and 
summoned  the  force  under  Captain  Trent  to  surrender.  The 
latter  was  absent,  but  Ensign  Ward,  then  in  command, 
agreed  to  give  up  the  fort  if  he  was  permitted  to  retire 
with  his  troops.  This  was  acceded  to,  and  the  French  took 
possession,  and  immediately  set  about  strengthening  the 
works.  The  trees  were  felled  around  the  fort,  which  they 
named  Du  Quesne,  barracks  of  bark  were  thrown  up,  and 
before  the  smoke  of  the  burning  trees  had  scarcely  cleared 


44  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

away,  corn  and  wheat  were  springing  up,  and   the  first 
foundation  of  Pittsburgh  was  laid. 

Immediately  on  the  reception  of  this  alarming  news 
Washington  sent  off  expresses  to  the  governors  of  Virginia, 
Pennsylvania  and  Maryland  for  reinforcements,  and  then 
called  a  council  of  war.  Beset  with  difficulties,  liable  at  any 
moment  to  be  surrounded  and  cut  off,  he  nevertheless  re- 
solved to  push  boldly  forward,  and,  if  possible,  reach  the 
Monongahela  and  erect  a  fortification.  With  his  little  force 
swelled  to  three  hundred  men,  he  entered  the  forest  and 
began  to  cut  his  way  through  the  wilderness.  This  was 
slow  and  tedious,  for  all  the  deep  streams  had  to  be  bridged, 
the  swamps  filled  up,  dug- ways  made  along  the  sides  of  the 
mountains,  and  a  grade  and  smoothness  obtained  sufficient 
to  allow  the  passage  of  baggage- wagons.  Reaching  at 
length  the  Youghogany,  a  halt  was  made,  till  a  bridge  could 
be  built  across  the  stream.  Being  told  here  by  some  Indians 
that  the  river  was  navigable  to  its  junction  with  boats, 
Washington  took  with  him  five  men  and  proceeded  down, 
to  ascertain  if  it  were  so.  The  navigation  of  the  stream 
proved  extremely  perilous,  for  he  got  entangled  amid  rocks 
and  shoals,  and  was  borne  through  dangerous  rapids.  At 
length,  however,  he  entered  a  gorge  made  by  two  high  pre- 
cipitous mountains,  where  the  stream,  compressed  between 
the  cliffs,  became  very  deep,  and,  ceasing  its  tortuous  course, 
flowed  in  a  straight,  rapid  current  on.  Borne  swiftly  and 
smoothly  along,  Washington  proceeded  for  ten  miles,  when 
he  came  to  a  fall.  This  abruptly  terminated  his  explora- 
tions, and  he  returned  to  his  army.  He  had  scarcely  reached 
it,  when  a  string  of  wampum  was  received  from  his  old 
friend,  the  Half-King,  telling  him  that  the  French  were  ad- 
vancing, and  saying,  "  Come  soon,  or  we  are  lost,  and  shall 
never  meet  again.  I  speak  it  in  the  grief  of  my  heart." 
Washington  immediately  ordered  the  troops  under  arms, 
and  pushed  forward.  Without  tents,  scantily  supplied  with 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  45 

clothes  and  provisions,  encamping  under  the  open  sky, 
pelted  by  the  rains,  fording  the  streams,  and  wearily  drag- 
ging their  cannon  aftef-  them,  they  marched  slowly  on, 
while  insubordination  and  complaints  swelled  the  evils  that 
encompassed  the  young  commander.  On  the  25th  another 
message  was  received  from  the  Half-King,  saying,  "  Be  on 
your  guard ;  the  French  army  intend  to  strike  the  first  Eng- 
lish whom  they  shall  see."  The  same  day  a  second  mes- 
senger entered  the  camp,  reporting  that  the  French  were 
but  eighteen  miles  distant.  Ignorant  of  their  number,  or 
from  what  point  they  would  attack,  he  hastened  to  the 
Great  Meadows,  an  open  plain  between  two  ridges,  covered 
with  grass  and  low  bushes.  Near  the  centre,  where  it  was 
about  three  hundred  yards  wide,  and  beside  a  rivulet  that 
flowed  through  it,  he  hastily  threw  up  an  intrenchment,  and 
prepared  to  meet  the  enemy.  As  he  looked  around  and 
saw  what  a  broad  interval  lay  between  his  rude  works  and 
the  covering  forest,  he  felt  satisfied  with  the  spot  he  had 
selected,  declaring  it  was  a  "  charming  field  for  an  en- 
counter.'* In  the  mean  time  he  sent  out  some  men  on  the 
wagon-horses  to  reconnoitre,  and  all  eyes  were  directed  to- 
ward the  forest,  in  constant  expectation  of  seeing  them 
burst  into  the  opening,  bringing  the  enemy  with  them.  But 
they  returned  without  having  seen  any  traces  of  the  in- 
vaders. In  the  night,  however,  the  sentries  became  alarmed, 
and  fired  their  pieces.  In  a  moment  the  little  camp  was  in 
commotion,  and  the  troops  stood  to  their  arms  till  morning. 
Soon  after  daylight  a  single  man  was  seen  moving  across 
the  plain  toward  the  fort.  This  was  Gist,  who  reported 
the  French  near  by.  The  day  wore  on  without  further 
cause  of  alarm ;  but  at  nine  o'clock  at  night  the  camp  was 
again  thrown  into  a  state  of  excitement,  by  the  arrival  of  a 
messenger  from  the  Half-King,  who  lay  with  his  warriors 
about  six  miles  distant,  reporting  that  the  French  detach- 
ment was  close  by  him.  It  was  pitch-dark,  and  the  rain 


46  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

fell  in  torrents,  but  young  Washington,  as  he  stood  by  the 
fire  listening  to  the  statement  of  the  swarthy  messenger, 
forgot  both,  and  instantly  selecting  forty  of  his  best  men, 
started  for  the  camp  of  the  Half-King.  Utter  blackness 
filled  the  forest,  and  it  was  impossible  to  keep  the  right  di- 
rection. Stumbling  over  the  rocks  and  fallen  trees,  the 
little  band  staggered  about  in  the  darkness,  the  pattering  of 
the  rain-drops  above  and  their  constant  dripping  on  the 
foliage  below  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  surrounding 
stillness,  save  when  the  musket-barrel  of  some  poor  fellow, 
tripping  in  the  gloom,  rung  against  a  tree  or  rock,  or  the 
low  words  of  command  fell  from  their  intrepid  leader, 
as  he  felt  his  way  toward  his  first  battle.  They  wandered 
about  in  the  woods  all  night,  and  did  not  reach  the  camp 
of  the  Half-King  till  sunrise.  A  short  council  was  then 
held,  in  which  it  was  resolved  to  send  forward  two  Indian 
scouts  to  ascertain  the  precise  locality  of  the  French.  Fol- 
lowing up  the  trail,  these  soon  discovered  the  enemy  con- 
cealed among  the  rocks.  Streaming  along  in  Indian  file, 
Washington,  with  his  savage  allies,  at  length  came  in  sight 
of  the  party.  The  latter,  immediately  on  discovering  the 
hostile  approach,  seized  their  arms  and  prepared  to  resist. 
"  Fire !"  cried  Washington,  and  at  the  same  moment  dis- 
charged his  musket.  A  rapid  volley  followed,  and  for  fif- 
teen minutes  it  was  sharp  work.  Junionville,  the  French 
commander,  and  ten  of  his  men  were  killed,  and  twenty- 
two  taken  prisoners.  The  remainder  fled.  Washington  had 
but  one  man  killed  and  three  wounded.  It  was  his  first 
battle,  and  the  excitement  was  naturally  great.  In  speak- 
ing of  it  afterward,  he  said,  "  I  heard  the  bullets  whistling, 
and  believe  me,  there  is  something  charming  in  the  sound." 
In  this  first  trial  he  showed  the  metal  he  was  made  of,  and 
although  the  speech  smacks  of  bravado  it  reveals  the  ardor 
and  enthusiasm,  without  which  the  soldier  never  excels  in 
his  profession. 


Death  of  Jumonville. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  49 

Probably  there  never  before  turned  such  vast  conse- 
quences on  a  single  musket-shot  as  on  that  fired  by  Wash- 
ington in  the  commencement  of  this  skirmish.  Its  echo 
went  round  the  globe ;  it  was  the  signal- gun  breaking  up 
the  councils  and  diplomatic  meetings  of  Europe,  and  sum- 
moning the  two  greatest  powers  of  the  world  to  arms  to 
struggle  for  a  continent.  It  began  the  long  war  which 
drove  France  out  of  America,  and  made  a  warlike  people 
of  the  colonists,  who  were  jealous  of  their  rights.  When 
the  revolutionary  struggle  afterward  commenced  France  was 
but  too  glad  to  help  despoil  England  of  the  rich  possessions 
of  which  the  latter  had  robbed  her,  and  saw  with  undis- 
guised pleasure  an  independent  government  rise  on  these 
shores.  But  the  French  army,  in  helping  republicanism, 
became  republican,  and  scattered  the  doctrine  of  human 
rights  throughout  France.  Her  bloody  revolution  was  the 
result.  Met  by  the  feudalism  of  Europe,  it  went  rolling 
over  the  French  borders,  deluging  the  continent  in  its  rash 
flow.  The  shout  of  the  oppressed  masses  was  heard  rising 
amid  the  din  of  battle,  and  the  low  and  threatening  under- 
tone of  their  mutterings  makes  monarchs  at  this  day  turn 
pale  on  their  thrones,  while  the  end  is  not  yet. 

What  a  long  and  frightful  train  of  events  that  single  shot 
set  in  motion.  When  the  news  reached  France,  it  threw 
both  government  and  people  into  a  state  of  high  excitement. 
War  had  begun,  and  the  name  of  Washington  was  heard 
for  the  first  time  in  the  saloons  of  Paris,  and  loaded  with 
opprobrium.  His  attack  was  declared  base  and  wicked,  and 
Jumonville  was  regarded  as  the  victim  of  assassination.  A 
poem  was  written  to  commemorate  his  sad  fate,  and  Wash- 
ington was  looked  upon  as  no  better  than  a  robber.  It  was 
asserted  that  Jumonville  was  on  a  peaceful  mission,  and  had 
begun  to  read  the  summons  he  bore,  when  Washington  fired 
upon  him.  This  was  false,  and  expressly  declared  so  by 
the  latter.  The  fact  that  Jumonville  was  intrusted  with  a 


50  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

summons  commanding  the  English  to  evacuate  the  territory, 
does  not  make  his  mission  a  peaceful  one.  Besides,  he  did 
not  advance  like  one  on  a  friendly  errand,  but  lay  skulking 
about  with  an  armed  force.  Washington,  when  sent  by 
Dinwiddie  to  the  French,  took  only  necessary  guides.  If, 
with  a  body  of  troops,  he  had  lain  for  days  about  the  fort, 
and  when  assailed  had  made  no  effort  at  explanation,  but 
continued  to  fight  till  overpowered,  it  would  have  been  per- 
fectly absurd  to  pretend  that  he  was  on  a  peaceful  mission. 
Still,  French  writers  denounced  Washington  unsparingly, 
and  to  this  day  pronounce  his  attack  unlawful  and  wicked. 
But  the  blame,  whether  much  or  little,  rested  on  Governor 
Dinwiddie,  not  on  himself,  for  the  former  had  directed  him 
to  drive  the  French  from  the  English  territory,  and  he  had 
been  sent  out  with  an  armed  force  for  that  express  purpose. 
He  could  not  have  done  otherwise  than  obey  the  orders  of 
the  government.  The  fact  that  war  had  not  been  declared 
could  make  no  difference,  for  the  French  had  already  com- 
menced hostilities,  by  investing  an  English  fort  and  forcing 
the  garrison  to  capitulate.  To  expect  Washington  to  sit 
still  and  see  a  second  taken  without  striking  a  blow,  would 
be  absurd. 

The  latter,  knowing  that  as  soon  as  the  news  of  his  attack 
on  Jumonville  should  reach  Fort  Du  Quesne,  a  heavier  force 
would  be  sent  against  him,  retired  at  once  to  his  little  fort, 
which  he  named  Fort  Necessity. 

But  while  compelled  to  prepare  for  the  exigencies  grow- 
ing out  of  a  superior  force  in  his  front,  he  had  also  to  con- 
tend with  the  insubordination  of  his  troops,  especially  the 
officers,  whose  pay  had  been  reduced  so  low,  that  it  would 
not  meet  their  necessary  expenses,  and  who,  indignant  at 
the  meanness  of  the  government,  declared  they  would  go 
home  and  leave  the  army  to  take  care  of  itself.  Washing- 
ton, in  this  dilemma,  put  on  the  "  hypocrite  as  far  as  he 
could,"  and  endeavored  to  convince  them  it  was  better  and 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  51 

more  honorable  to  remain  where  they  were,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  wrote  to  Governor  Dinwiddie,  stating  the 
feelings  of  the  officers,  and  remonstrating  boldly  against  the 
insane  policy  which  made  them  inferior  to  the  king's 
officers.  He  declared  that,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  it 
was  not  the  smallness  of  the  pay  that  made  him  indignant, 
but  the  injustice  and  dishonor  of  this  invidious  distinction, 
while  in  fact  the  services  he  and  his  fellow  officers  were  re- 
quired to  perform,  were  enormous  and  hazardous  in  the  ex- 
treme. "  For  my  own  part,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  matter  almost 
indifferent  whether  I  serve  for  full  pay,  or  as  a  generous 
volunteer.  Indeed,  did  my  circumstances  correspond  with 
my  inclinations,  I  should  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  prefer 
the  latter ;  for  the  motives  that  have  led  me  here  are  pure 
and  noble."  Here,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  liable  at  any 
moment  to  be  struck  down,  by  an  act  of  executive  authority, 
he  nevertheless  kindles  into  stern  indignation  against  the 
wrong  committed  by  that  authority,  and  demands  a  recog- 
nition of  those  claims  of  his  officers  and  men,  which  he 
deems  to  be  just  and  honorable. 

While  thus  surrounded  by  a  murmuring  army — threat- 
ened by  a  superior  enemy,  and  destitute  of  the  necessary 
provisions  for  his  detachment,  he  received  word  of  the  death 
of  his  senior  in  rank,  Colonel  Fry,  at  Will's  Creek.  He  was 
now  commander-in-chief.  But  soon  after,  an  independent 
company  from  South  Carolina  arrived,  commanded  by  Cap- 
tain Mackay,  who,  having  a  royal  commission,  ranked 
Washington.  Here  a  new  difficulty  arose,  and  had  not 
Mackay  been  a  thorough  gentleman,  it  would  have  been  a 
serious  one.  The  latter,  however,  contented  himself  with 
a  mild  refusal  to  obey  the  colonel's  orders,  and  with  his  one 
hundred  men  encamped  by  himself,  Washington,  foresee- 
ing the  embarrassment  in  which  this  divided  command 
would  place  the  entire  force,  wrote  to  Governor  Dinwiddie 
to  settle  the  difficulty  by  a  direct  explicit  order.  The  latter 


52  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

refused  to  take  the  responsibility  of  deciding  on  so  grave  a 
matter  as  who  should  command  four  hundred  men;  and 
Washington,  in  order  to  avoid  a  quarrel,  determined  with 
his  troops  to  leave  the  fort  and  advance  to  the  Mononga- 
hela,  while  Captain  Mackay  remained  at  Fort  Necessity. 
The  nearest  practicable  route  to  Gist's  settlement,  thirteen 
miles  distant,  was  through  a  terrific  mountain  gorge.  Com- 
pelled to  hew  and  dig  a  road  that  would  admit  the  trans- 
portation of  cannon,  beset  by  friendly  Indians,  delayed  by 
their  troublesome  councils  and  importunities,  and  deceived 
by  spies,  he  occupied  two  weeks  in  making  this  short 
march. 

Having  at  length  arrived  there,  Washington  sent  out 
scouts,  who  kept  him  informed  of  all  the  movements  at  Fort 
Du  Quesne.  Being  at  length  convinced  that  large  rein- 
forcements had  arrived  from  Canada,  he  called  a  council  ot 
war,  to  determine  what  course  should  be  pursued.  At  first 
it  was  resolved  to  make  a  stand  where  they  were,  and  a 
fortification  was  commenced,  and  a  messenger  dispatched  to 
Mackay  to  hasten  forward.  The  latter,  like  a  true  soldier, 
immediately  marched  to  their  relief;  when  another  council 
was  called,  in  which  it  was  decided  that,  the  enemy  being 
in  such  heavy  force,  it  would  be  more  prudent  to  retreat. 
This  was  no  easy  matter,  and  at  the  same  time  drag  nine 
swivels  over  the  rough  road  that  lay  between  the  settlement 
and  Fort  Necessity.  There  were  but  few  horses,  and  those 
comparatively  worthless,  so  that  soldiers  were  compelled  to 
man  the  drag-ropes.  To  set  a  good  example,  and  encourage 
and  render  cheerful  the  men,  Washington  gave  up  his  own 
horse  to  carry  the  public  stores,  and  paid  the  soldiers  for 
transporting  his  necessary  baggage.  By  dint  of  great  labor 
they  got  back  to  the  Great  Meadows  in  two  days.  They 
could,  however,  go  no  farther,  for  they  had  been  without 
bread  eight  days,  and,  weary  and  half-famished,  found  only 
two  bags  of  flour  at  the  fort.  The  want  of  horses  and  pro- 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  53 

visions,  together  with  the  news  that  two  New  York  compa- 
nies had  twenty  days  before  arrived  at  Alexandria,  and 
hence  must  now  be  very  near  them,  induced  Washington 
to  order  a  halt,  and  begin  to  intrench  himself  as  best  he 
might  where  he  was.  An  express  was  sent  to  these  New 
York  companies  to  hurry  forward,  and  every  effort  put  forth 
to  strengthen  the  impromptu  works  of  Fort  Necessity. 

At  length,  on  the  morning  of  the  30th  of  July,  a  mus- 
ket-shot was  heard,  and  soon  after  a  sentinel,  who  had  been 
wounded  by  the  enemy,  came  limping  in.  Scouts  who  had 
been  sent  out  returned  breathless  with  haste,  saying  that 
the  enemy,  nine  hundred  strong,  was  only  four  miles  dis- 
tant. This  was  stirring  news,  and  Washington  immediately 
drew  up  his  little  band  of  four  hundred  outside  the  trenches, 
and  gave  the  orders  not  to  fire  till  the  enemy  was  close 
enough  to  let  their  volleys  tell.  At  eleven  o'clock  the 
French  approached,  but  halted  when  six  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant and  commenced  firing.  Washington,  after  receiving 
their  fire  for  some  time,  and  seeing  that  they  had  no  inten- 
tion of  attempting  to  carry  the  works  by  assault,  as  he 
expected,  marched  his  men  in  again,  and  told  them  to  fire 
when  and  how  they  pleased.  That  little  breast- work  was 
soon  blazing  with  the  irregular  volleys.  The  French  how- 
ever remained  at  such  a  distance,  and  were  so  sheltered  by 
the  trees,  that  but  little  execution  was  done.  The  rain  fell 
in  torrents  all  day,  drenching  both  armies  and  filling  the 
trenches  round  the  fort  with  water.  This,  however,  did 
not  cool  the  combatants,  and  a  sharp  fire  was  kept  up  the 
whole  day,  and,  as  twilight  deepened  over  the  dripping 
forest,  its  dark  arcades  were  lit  up  by  incessant  flashes. 
But  at  eight  in  the  evening  the  French  called  a  parley,  and 
requested  an  officer  to  be  sent  to  them.  Vonbraam,  a 
Dutchman,  being  the  only  one  that  could  speak  French,  was 
dispatched,  and  soon  returned  with  a  paper  containing 
articles  of  capitulation.  Washington  and  his  officers  knew 


54  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

it  would  be  impossible  to  hold  out  long  against  their  adver- 
saries, for  the  latter  could  starve  them  into  submission  in  a 
short  time,  and,  as  the  terms  proposed  were  honorable,  he 
accepted  them.  He  and  his  band  were  allowed  to  march 
out  of  .the  fort  with  drums  beating  and  colors  flying,  and 
retire  without  molestation  to  the  settlements,  taking  every- 
thing with  them  but  the  artillery.  Washington,  on  the 
other  hand,  agreed  to  restore  the  prisoners  taken  in  his 
attack  on  Jumonville,  and  not  build  any  more  forts  west  of 
the  mountains  for  a  year.  These  articles,  when  they  were 
afterward  published,  were  severely  criticised.  They  con- 
tained things  Washington  should  not  have  consented  to,  and 
of  which  he  was  entirely  ignorant  at  the  time  of  the  capitu- 
lation. The  Dutch  interpreter  had  intentionally,  or  through 
ignorance,  deceived  him.  When  he  returned  with  the 
articles  of  capitulation  it  was  raining  so  heavily,  that  a 
candle  could  with  great  difficulty  be  kept  burning  while  he 
gave  a  free  translation.  Under  the  circumstances  a  written 
translation  could  not  be  made,  and  Washington  had  to 
depend  on  the  faithfulness  of  the  verbal  one.  In  this 
nothing  was  said  respecting  the  erection  of  forts  "  west  of 
the  Alleghanies,"  but  the  specification  on  that  point  was  ren- 
dered not  to  attempt  building  or  improvements  on  the  lands 
belonging  to  the  French  king.  To  this  general  promise  there 
could  be  no  objection,  as  no  limits  were  designated.  Again, 
in  the  written  articles  the  "  death  of  Jumonville  "  was  called 
an  "  assassination;"  while  the  interpreter  used  the  former 
expression  in  translating  them. 

Twelve  of  Washington's  command  were  killed  and  forty- 
three  wounded.  The  former  he  buried  in  the  forest,  and 
with  the  latter  took  up  his  weary  march  back  to  the 
settlements. 

The  governor  and  council  approved  his  course,  and  the 
House  of  Burgesses,  when  it  assembled,  passed  a  vote  of 
thanks  to  him  and  his  officers. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  55 

Washington  rejoined  his  regiment  at  Alexandria,  where 
he  was  ordered  to  fill  up  the  diminished  companies  and 
march  to  Will's  creek,  to  join  Colonel  Innies,  who  was  then 
building  Fort  Cumberland.  In  short  the  ardent  governor 
had  planned  a  winter  campaign,  in  a  country  where  there 
were  no  roads,  no  supplies,  no  forts,  expecting  it  to  be  car- 
ried forward  by  troops  without  arms,  ammunition,  provisions 
or  tents.  Washington  told  him  the  thing  was  absolutely 
impossible,  and  the  order  was  countermanded. 

The  Assembly  when  it  met  voted  twenty  thousand 
pounds  for  the  public  service.  This,  with  ten  thousand  sent 
over  by  the  English  government,  put  Dinwiddie  in  funds 
again,  and  he  set  about  enlarging  the  army,  by  the  addition 
of  ten  companies  of  a  hundred  men  each.  These  were  to 
be  independent,  and  the  officers  of  them  to  rank  those  of 
the  same  grade  in  the  Virginia  regiment,  while  the  highest 
officers  of  the  latter  were  reduced  to  captains.  Resenting 
this  degradation  as  a  personal  insult,  Washington  threw  up 
his  commission  and  left  the  army. 

Shortly  after,  Governor  Sharpe  of  Maryland,  being 
appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces  destined  to  act 
against  the  French,  solicited  Washington  to  take'  his  place 
again  in  the  army,  hinting  that  he  might  retain  his  old 
commission.  The  latter  took  fire  at  this,  and  wrote  a  tart 
reply  to  the  governor,  saying,  "  If  you  think  me  capable  of 
holding  a  commission  that  has  neither  rank  nor  emolument 
annexed  to  it,  you  must  entertain  a  very  contemptible 
opinion  of  my  weakness,  and  believe  me  to  be  more  empty 
than  the  commission  itself." 

It  was  with  deep  regret  that  he  gave  up  his  profession, 
for  he  was  exceedingly  attached  to  it,  and  was  ambitious  of 
military  distinction,  He  did  not,  however,  long  remain 
idle,  for  the  next  spring  [March  15th,  1754]  General  Brad- 
dock  arrived  from  England,  with  two  regiments  of  regular 
troops.  These  were  expected  to  crush  all  opposition  and 


56  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

sweep  the  French  from  the  frontiers.  Washington,  who 
had  thus  far  effected  all  that  had  been  done,  was  requested 
by  Braddock  to  form,  one  of  his  staff,  holding  his  former 
rank  in  the  army.  To  this  he  acceded,  solely,  as  he 
avowed,  for  the  purpose  of  serving  his  country ;  for  he 
expected  no  emoluments,  whatever  the  result  of  the  expedi- 
tion might  be,  as  he  had  resolved  to  accept  no  commission 
from  Braddock. 

The  march  of  this  army  of  more  than  two  thousand  men 
was  looked  upon  as  the  forerunner  of  the  certain  and  utter 
destruction  of  the  French,  and  a  subscription  paper  was 
actually  circulated  in  Philadelphia  to  raise  money  for  the 
celebration  of  the  victory  on  its  return. 

Washington  joined  it  at  Winchester,  and  was  received  in 
a  flattering  manner  by  the  officers.  The  army  then  started 
for  the  interior,  and  reached  Will's  creek  about  the  middle 
of  May.  Soon  after  Washington  was  sent  to  Williamsburg 
to  procure  money.  On  his  return  the  main  body  was  put 
in  motion,  advancing  slowly,  dragging  its  artillery  with 
difficulty  over  the  uneven  roads,  and  stretching  for  four 
miles  through  the  forest,  as  if  on  purpose  to  invite  an 
attack.  Washington  urged  on  Braddock  the  necessity  of 
greater  dispatch,  and  began  already  to  feel  uneasiness  at  the 
unwieldiness  of  this  straggling  army ;  he  even  gave  up  hif 
own  horse  to  assist  in  transporting  the  baggage. 

At  last  he  was  taken  sick  with  a  fever,  which  raged  witt 
more  or  less  violence  for  fourteen  days.  At  the  expiration 
of  that  time,  he  endeavored  to  overtake  the  army.  Unable 
to  sit  on  a  horse,  he  rode  in  a  covered  wagon,  but  the 
jolting  so  distressed  him  that  he  was  compelled  to  stop  on 
the  road,  under  the  charge  of  a  guard.  His  restlessness 
under  this  delay  was  very  great,  and  nothing  but  the 
solemn  promise  of  General  Braddock  that  he  should  be 
brought  up  before  the  attack  on  the  French  at  Fort  Du 
Quesne  was  made,  quieted  him.  To  have  the  finishing  bat- 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  57 

tie  take  place  and  he  not  present,  was  a  thought  he  could 
not  endure. 

At  length,  though  in  a  weak,  exhausted  condition,  he 
came  up  with  the  army,  on  the  last  of  June,  at  the  Great 
Crossing,  a  few  days  before  the  battle  of  Monongahela. 
On  the  morning  of  the  9th  of  July,  Braddock  forded  the 
Monongahela,  just  below  the  junction  of  the  Youghogany, 
and  moved  in  beautiful  order,  to  the  sound  of  stirring 
music,  along  the  bank  of  that  quiet  stream — the  scarlet 
uniforms  of  the  soldiers  contrasting  richly  with  the  wealth 
of  green  on  every  side.  As  Washington's  eye  fell  on  this 
military  pageant,  new  to  him,  and  saw  nearly  two  thousand 
bayonets  flashing  in  the  morning  sunbeams,  and  moving  in 
steady  undulations  over  the  plain,  as  to  the  tread  of  a 
single  man,  while  the  summer  forest  echoed  to  the  roll  of 
the  drum  and  bugle  blast,  his  young  heart  kindled  with 
enthusiasm,  and  he  declared  it  was  the  most  glorious  spec- 
tacle he  ever  beheld. 

About  noon  the  army  again  waded  the  Monongahela,  and 
began  to  move  over  the  triangle  toward  the  forks  of  the 
two  rivers,  where,  seven  miles  distant,  they  united  to  form 
the  Ohio.  A  detachment  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  men, 
under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Gage,  was  sent  in  advance, 
attended  by  a  working  party  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  more. 
Braddock  followed  with  the  artillery,  the  main  army,  and 
baggage.  The  French  had  selected  an  admirable  place  for 
an  ambuscade.  A  gentle  slope,  gashed  by  two  ravines  that 
extended  from  top  to  bottom  on  either  side,  covered  with 
trees  and  long  grass,  furnished  a  secure  hiding  place,  while 
at  the  same  time,  it  enabled  them  to  pour  a  double  flank 
fire  on  the  ascending  force.  Suddenly,  while  Gage  was 
moving  up  this  gentle  slope,  along  a  path  only  twelve  feet 
wide,  a  close  and  deadly  volley  smote  his  uncovered  ranks. 
Volley  after  volley  followed  in  quick  succession,  and 
encircled  with  fire,  rolling  on  them  from  an  unseen  foe,  the 

4 


58  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

soldiers  broke  and  fled  down  the  hill,  Falling  on  the  artil- 
lery and  baggage,  struggling  up  from  below,  they  threw 
these  into  confusion  also.  Braddock  endeavored  in  vain  to 
restore  order.  The  fire,  which  seemed  to  issue  from  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  closed  on  them  closer  and  deadlier 
every  moment,  and  the  ranks  melted  away  like  frost-work. 
The  Virginia  regiment  wished  to  take  to  the  trees,  and  fight 
the  Indians  in  their  own  fashion,  but  Braddock  forbade 
them  and  endeavored  to  form  close  columns,  which  only 
allowed  death  to  traverse  his  ranks  with  more  rapid  foot- 
steps. Confused  by  this  new  mode  of  fighting,  and  by  the 
unearthly  yells  of  the  Indians,  the  regular  troops  lost  all 
discipline — they  fired  wildly,  without  seeing  the  enemy, 
and  would  not  obey  their  officers.  A  few  discharges  of 
grape  up  those  ravines  would  have  forced  the  enemy  from 
their  place  of  concealment,  or  a  single  steady  charge  of 
bayonets,  scattered  the  Indians  in  affright.  But  neither 
was  done,  and  for  more  than  two  hours  those  bewildered 
troops  were  held  by  their  officers  to  that  fatal  spot,  only  to 
be  shot  down.  Braddock  had  five  horses  killed  under  him 
in  succession,  and  at  length  was  hurled  to  the  ground  by  a 
ball  through  his  lungs.  The  officers  struggled  bravely, 
charging  together  like  common  infantry,  to  stimulate  their 
followers  to  bear  up  against  the  storm,  and  presented  a  sub- 
lime spectacle  of  devotion  on  that  ill-fated  field.  Brad- 
dock's  two  aids  were  borne  wounded  from  the  ba'ttle, 
leaving  Washington  alone  to  distribute  orders.  Here  his 
military  qualities  shone  forth  in  their  greatest  splendor. 
Though  pale  and  feeble,  he  forgot  his  exhausted  condition 
in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  with  his  fine  face  lit 
up  with  the  fire  of  enthusiasm,  he  galloped  through  the 
disordered  host,  his  tall  form  presenting  a  constant  mark  to 
the  sharp-shooters,  whose  bullets  rattled  like  hail-stones 
around  him.  Men  were  falling  on  every  side,  almost  entire 
companies  at  a  time,  yet  reckless  of  clanger  he  spurred  his 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  59 

steed  over  the  dead  and  dying  alike,  straining  every  nerve 
to  save  the  battle  and  the  army.  Two  horses  were  shot 
under  him,  but  he  rose  each  time  from  the  earth  unharmed. 
Four  balls  passed  through  his  coat.  An  old  chief  singled 
him  out  and  bade  his  young  braves  do  the  same,  but  after 
striving  in  vain  to  hit  him,  became  alarmed,  and  told  his 

o  *  * 

men  to  desist  from  firing  at  one  who  was  plainly  under  the 
care  of  the  great  Manitou.  Cool  and  self-possessed  the 
young  aid  stood  like  a  rock  on  that  turbulent  field,  and  to 
see  him  endeavor  to  stem  the  panic  and  disorder,  one  would 
have  thought  he  had  been  tried  in  a  hundred  battles,  than 
of  being,  as  he  was,  in  his  first  field  fight. 

Of  eighty-six  officers,  sixty-three  had  fallen ;  while  half 
the  entire  army  was  stretched  on  the  field.  Of  three  Vir- 
ginia companies,  only  thirty  men  were  left  standing,  and 
scarcely  a  single  officer  remained  unwounded.  Washington 
saw  his  brave  Virginians  thus  uselessly  sacrificed  with  a 
bursting  heart.  But  faithful  to  the  orders  given  them,  they 
formed  a  glorious  example  to  the  cowardly  regulars,  on 
whom  threats,  entreaties,  and  the  noble  devotion  of  their 
officers  were  alike  thrown  away.  At  length  the  turbulent 
mass  turned  in  flight,  and  over  the  dead  and  dying,  and 
over  their  own  cannon,  went  streaming  along  the  road  like 
a  herd  of  frightened  animals.  All  the  provision  and  bag- 
gage, even  the  general's  private  papers,  were  left  behind  in 
the  panic.  Washington  rode  hither  and  thither,  endeavor- 
ing to  rally  a  rear- guard,  but  was  borne  helplessly  along  in 
the  living  torrent.  Braddock  was  carried  from  the  field  in 
a  tumbril,  but  being  unable  to  bear  the  motion,  was  trans- 
ferred to  a  litter  and  hurried  forward.  All  day  long  he 
never  spoke,  but  at  night  he  seemed  to  rouse  for  a  moment, 
and  exclaimed  in  amazement,  "  Who  would,  have  thought  it?" 
Reaching  Dunbar's  camp,  the  panic  was  communicated  to 
the  garrison  there,  and  burning  the  public  stores  and  bag- 
gage, and  destroying  the  artillery,  the  entire  army  fleeing 


60  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

from  its  own  shadow  streamed  on  through  the  forest.  Life 
was  fast  ebbing  away  from  the  stunned  and  discomfited 
general,  and  he  lay  in  a  half  stupor ;  as  if  struggling  with 
some  dreadful  dream.  At  night  he  at  length  roused  again, 
saying,  "  We  shall  better  know  how  to  deal  with  them 
another  time."  But  he  had  done  with  all  future  time,  and 
was  already  entering  that  calm  world  where  the  sound  of 
battle  never  comes.  The  litter  on  which  he  lay  was  set 
down,  and  his  remaining  officers  gathered  sadly  around  it. 
As  a  last  token  of  gratitude  to  his  young  volunteer  aid,  for 
his  noble  devotion  and  heroism,  he  gave  him  a  splendid 
charger  and  his  own  body  servant.  A  brief  farewell — a 
faint  gasp — a  weak  struggle — and  Braddock  lay  a  corpse  in 
the  forest.  A  grave  was  hastily  dug  in  the  centre  of  the 
road,  to  conceal  it  from  the  Indians,  into  which,  with  his 
sword  lain  across  his  breast,  he  was  lowered.  Young  Wash- 
ington read  the  funeral  service  by  torchlight  over  him,  the 
deep  tones  of  his  voice  interrupted  only  by  the  solemn 
amen  of  the  surrounding  officers.  The  motionless  torch- 
bearers — the  encircling  forest,  with  its  dimly  lighted  corri- 
dors— the  long  line  of  receding  bayonets  flashing  in  the 
light — the  uncovered  officers — the  open  grave,  and  beside 
it  the  pale  face  of  the  sleeper,  combined  to  form  a  scene  at 
once  picturesque  and  most  solemn.  A  mark  was  left  to 
designate  the  spot,  and  the  army  again  defiled  through  the 
wilderness.  Alone,  the  defeated  warrior  lay  in  his  rude 
grave,  safe  from  the  mortification  and  anguish  that  awaited 
him  in  the  settlements  and  in  the  army.  The  place  of  his 
burial  can  still  be  seen,  a  little  off  from  the  national  road, 
and  about  a  mile  from  Fort  Necessity. 

All  this  time  a  far  different  scene  was  passing  around 
Fort  Du  Quesne.  The  Indian  allies  of  the  French  were 
frantic  with  joy,  for  never  before  had  they  reaped  such  a 
rich  harvest  of  white  men.  The  slope  up  which  Braddock 
had  attempted  to  force  his  way  was  literally  crowded  with 


Peffat  of  Rraddock. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  63 

the  dead  and  wounded,  the  scarlet  uniforms  of  whom  con- 
trasted brightly  with  the  green  grass  over  which  they  were 
sprinkled.  The  tomahawk  was  soon  crushing  through  skulls 
in  which  the  brain  still  throbbed  with  life,  and  the  scalp- 
ing-knife  glancing  around  the  heads  of  those  already  dead. 
At  night  the  woods  surrounding  the  fort  exhibited  a  perfect 
Pandemonium.  The  exultant  yells  and  frantic  movements 
of  the  Indians  as  they  danced  and  shouted  together, 
shaking  their  bloody  arms  and  knives  above  their  heads, 
the  heavy  explosions  of  the  cannon  from  the  fort,  mingling 
in  with  the  incessant  discharge  of  small  arms  without,  com- 
bined to  form  one  of  the  most  frightful  exhibitions  the  eye 
ever  rests  upon.  The  next  day  the  savages  painted  them- 
selves in  the  most  gaudy  colors,  and,  dressed  in  the  scarlet 
uniforms  of  the  soldiers  and  the  rich  apparel  and  cha- 
peaux  of  the  officers,  paraded  around  the  fort  in  ludicrous 
ostentation. 

The  English  army  at  length  reached  the  settlements, 
sending  consternation  and  affright  through  the  colonies,  and 
Washington  retired  to  Mount  Vernon. 

It  was  well  for  Braddock  that  he  reposed  in  the  forest, 
for  it  would  have  been  worse  than  death  to  have  met  the 
deep  and  utter  condemnation  of  the  people.  But  from  the 
general  obloquy  that  fell  on  nearly  all  connected  with  this 
ill-fated  expedition,  Washington  was  not  only  exempted,  but 
received  laudations  innumerable.  His  gallantry,  his  chival- 
ric  bearing,  and  his  miraculous  escape,  were  the  theme  of 
every  tongue.  Said  Davis,  a  distinguished  clergyman,  in 
referring  to  this  defeat  in  a  sermon,  "  I  point  out  that 
heroic  youth,  Colonel  Washington,  whom  I  cannot  but  hope 
Providence  has  preserved,  in  so  signal  a  manner,  for  some  im- 
portant service  to  his  country."  A  remarkable  prophecy, 
as  thus  uttered  from  the  pulpit.  "  Who,"  said  Lord  Hali- 
fax, in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "  is  Mr.  Washington  ?  I 
know  nothing  of  him,  but  that  they  say  he  behaved  in 


64  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Braddock's  action  as  bravely  as  though  he  really  loved 
the  whistling  of  bullets." 

Either  Washington's  conduct  during  this  campaign  has 
been  most  imperfectly  given,  or  he  at  this  early  age  pos- 
sessed that  strange  power  over  others  which  later  in  life 
formed  one  of  his  great  characteristics.  He  was  only  a 
provincial  officer  and  a  volunteer,  and  it  was  not  merely 
because  he  behaved  gallantly  in  battle,  like  all  the  rest,  that 
his  dying  commander  bequeathed  to  him  his  faithful  ser- 
vant, or  that  his  superiors  selected  him  as  the  most  fitting 
officer  to  act  as  chaplain.  His  bearing,  language,  actions, 
all  must  have  possessed  extraordinary  attractions. 

Disgusted  with  the  ignominious  termination  of  Brad- 
dock's  campaign,  still  feeble  and  wasted  from  his  five  weeks' 
fever,  followed,  as  it  had  been,  by  such  exhausting  labors 
and  mental  anxiety,  Washington  hailed  the  quiet  retreat  of 
Mount  Vernon  with  the  pleasure  that  the  long  tost  mariner 
greets  the  sight  of  land.  Nothing  but  a  frame  of  prodi- 
gious strength,  and  a  constitution  to  match  it,  could  have 
carried  him  through  what  he  had  undergone.  But  on  the 
tranquil  shores  of  the  Potomac,  his  health  gradually 
recruited,  yet  for  a  time  he  seemed  little  inclined  to  enter 
again  the  stormy  scenes  into  which  he  had  been  thrown  for 
the  last  two  years.  He  was  now  but  twenty-three  years  of 
age,  and  yet  had  passed  through  vicissitudes  and  trials 
sufficient  for  a  lifetime. 

He  was  not,  however,  long  allowed  to  lay  becalmed  in 
the  bay  where  he  had  sought  shelter.  His  conduct  in  the 
battle  of  Monongahela,  coupled  with  his  former  services, 
made  him  the  most  marked  military  man  in  the  colony,  and 
pointed  him  out  as  the  proper  leader  of  its  forces. 

The  Assembly  was  in  session  at  this  time,  in  Williams- 
burg,  and  several  of  the  members,  one  being  his  elder 
brother,  wrote  him,  requesting  his  presence  there,  as  it 
would  facilitate  a  plan  they  had  formed  to  get  him  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  65 

appointment  of  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces  of  the 
colony.  To  these  invitations  Washington  replied,  that  if 
there  were  no  other  reasons  to  prevent  his  complying,  his 
health  alone  would  be  a  sufficient  excuse,  as  it  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  he  could  ride  over  his  different  plantations. 
To  his  brother  he  wrote  that  he  was  always  willing  to  ren- 
der his  country  any  service  he  was  capable  of,  but  never 
upon  the  terms  he  had  done — impairing  his  fortune,  and 
ruining  the  "  best  of  constitutions,"  and  receiving  nothing 
but  neglect  in  return.  Said  he,  "  I  was  employed  to  go  a 
journey  in  the  winter,  when  I  believe  few  or  none  would 
have  undertaken  it — and  what  did  I  get  by  it  ?  My  ex- 
penses borne!  I  then  was  appointed,  with  trifling  pay,  to 
conduct  a  handful  of  men  to  the  Ohio.  What  did  I  get  by 
that  ?  Why,  after  putting  myself  to  a  considerable  expense 
in  equipping  and  providing  necessaries  for  the  campaign,  I 
went  out,  was  soundly  beaten,  and  lost  them  all !  came  in 
and  had  my  commission  taken  from  me,  or  in  other  words, 
my  command  reduced,  under  pretence  of  an  order  from 
home !  I  then  went  out  a  volunteer  with  General  Brad- 
dock,  lost  all  my  horses,  and  many  other  things.  But  this 
being  a  voluntary  act,  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it, 
nor  should  I  have  done  it,  were  it  not  to  show  that  I  have 
been  on  the  losing  order  ever  since  I  entered  the  service, 
which  is  now  nearly  two  years."  A  sorry  picture,  truly, 
of  his  past  experience;  and  the  young  and  fiery  commander, 
now  thoroughly  aroused,  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
a  government  so  reckless  of  his  rights  and  so  destitute  of 
common  justice.  His  indignation  at  the  course  it  has  pur- 
sued, at  length  finds  utterance,  and  he  will  no  longer  be 
made  the  plaything  of  power. 

To  Warner  Lewis,  another  member  who  had  written  him 
on  the  same  subject,  he  declared  he  would  never  accept  the 
command  if  tendered,  unless  something  certain  was  secured 
to  him,  and  he  was  allowed  to  designate  who  should  be  his 


60  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

subordinate  officers.  He  would  not  again  put  himself  in 
positions  where  his  life  and  honor  depended  on  the  behavior 
of  his  officers,  unless  he  could  have  the  selection  of  them. 
A  small  military  chest,  he  also  considered  indispensable  to 
the  proper  management  of  military  affairs. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  his  appointment  had  been 
made  out.  Forty  thousand  pounds  were  voted  for  the  pub- 
lic service ;  three  hundred  pounds  to  Washington,  and 
appropriate  sums  to  the  subordinate  officers.  It  was  re- 
solved to  increase  the  Virginia  regiment  to  sixteen  com- 
panies, and  grant  to  Washington  all  that  he  had  demanded, 
besides  giving  him  an  aid-de-camp  and  secretary.  As  soon 
as  the  news  of  his  appointment  reached  him,  he  set  off 
for  Williamsburg,  notwithstanding  his  feeble  health,  to  con- 
sult with  the  governor  about  future  operations.  He  was 
too  sick  to  ride  a  hundred  and  sixty  miles  to  beg  for  office, 
but  not  to  fulfill  its  duties  when  given  him.  He  was  too 
sick  in  the  Alleghany  mountains  to  have  traveled  back  to 
his  home,  where  he  could  find  comfort  and  good  nursing, 
but  not  too  sick  to  hurry  forward  to  the  battle  of  Monon- 
gahela,  and  rage  like  a  lion  over  the  lost  field.  He  never 
was  too  sick  to  do  his  duty  or  to  save  his  country. 

Having  settled  upon  a  plan  with  the  governor,  Washing- 
ton immediately  made  every  department  of  the  military 
organization  of  the  state  feel  his  energy.  Fixing  his  head- 
quarters at  Winchester,  he  sent  out  recruiting  officers  to  fill 
up  his  regiment,  the  estimates  of  which  he  sent  to  the  gov- 
ernor, and  then  once  more  turned  his  horse's  head  toward 
the  Alleghany  mountains,  which  from  boyhood  had  been 
the  scene  of  his  thrilling  adventures.  Once  more,  elate 
with  hope,  he  entered  their  rugged  passes,  and  going  from 
post  to  post,  visited  every  one  on  the  frontier  from  Fort 
Dinwiddie,  on  Jackson's  river,  to  Fort  Cumberland.  He 
observed  every  thing,  learned  every  thing  to  be  gained,  and 
issued  orders  to  each  in  turn.  He  then  started  for  Wil 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  67 

liamsburg,  to  consult  with  the  governor,  but  had  proceeded 
only  a  part  of  the  way  when  he  was  overtaken  by  an  express 
declaring  that  the  Indians  had  suddenly  burst  upon  the 
settlements,  murdered  the  inhabitants,  blocked  up  the  ran- 
gers in  small  fortresses,  and  were  spreading  devastation  and 
terror  on  every  side.  He  immediately  galloped  back  to 
Winchester,  summoned  the  militia,  called  on  the  recruits  to 
hasten  to  head-quarters,  and  soon  had  a  respectable  force 
under  his  command.  The  report,  however,  was  exagge- 
rated, but  nothing  could  allay  the  terror  of  the  inhabitants, 
who  swarmed  in  droves  across  the  valley  between  the  Blue 
Ridge  and  the  Alleghanies;  many  not  stopping  till  they 
had  put  the  last  mountain  barrier  between  them  and  the 
enemy. 

The  colonies,  at  this  early  period,  were  so  tenacious  of 
their  liberties,  that  very  little  power  was  given  to  the  com- 
mander over  the  militia  or  civil  authorities.  The  evil  of 
this  Washington  soon  felt  in  the  insubordination  of  his 
troops,  and  the  stubborn  refusal  of  the  settlers  to  assist  him 
in  transporting  his  men  and  baggage.  He  was  compelled 
to  impress  wagons  and  men  into  the  service,  and  enforce 
every  order  by  his  "  own  drawn  sword  "  over  the  head  of 
the  delinquent,  or  by  the  bayonets  of  a  party  of  his  soldiers. 
This  so  exasperated  the  inhabitants  that  they  threatened  to 
blow  out  his  brains.  He,  however,  by  his  strong  arm,  kept 
down  both  open  mutiny  and  rebellion,  and  pushed  forward 
his  plans  with  all  the  energy  he  possessed.  Meanwhile 
[Oct.  llth,  1755,]  he  wrote  to  the  governor,  detailing  the 
difficulties  under  which  he  labored,  and  requesting  that 
more  power  should  be  delegated  to  the  commander-in-chief. 

While  things  were  in  this  disordered  state,  there  came  on 
Saturday  night  an  express,  panting  with  fear  and  exhaus- 
tion, announcing  that  a  party  of  Indians  were  only  twelve 
miles  off,  driving  the  frightened  inhabitants  from  their 
dwellings.  Washington  immediately  strengthened  the 


68  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

town-guards  and  ordered  the  troops  to  be  armed,  while  he 
sent  out  two  scouts  to  give  notice  of  the  approach  of  the 
savages.  At  daylight  a  second  express  arrived,  "  ten  times 
more  terrified  than  the  former,"  declaring  that  the  Indians 
were  within  four  miles  of  the  town,  "  killing  and  destroying 
all  before  them ;"  that  he  had  heard  the  shrieks  and  cries 
of  the  murdered.  The  whole  place  was  immediately  thrown 
into  the  wildest  commotion.  Washington,  hastily  collecting 
forty  men,  sallied  forth  and  marched  rapidly  toward  the 
place  where  this  scene  of  carnage  was  transpiring.  As  he 
approached  it  he  heard  the  firing  of  guns,  and  shouts  and 
horrid  imprecations.  But  on  advancing  nearer  he  disco- 
vered that  all  this  uproar  was  caused  by  "  three  drunken 
soldiers  of  the  light-horse,"  who,  in  the  midst  of  their 
debauch,  amused  themselves  by  uttering  blasphemies  and 
firing  their  pistols  in  the  air.  Peremptorily  ordering  them 
under  arrest,  he  marched  them  back  to  town.  On  his 
arrival  he  met  the  spies  sent  out  the  night  before,  who 
reported  that  the  party  of  Indians  first  discovered  consisted 
of  a  mulatto  and  negro,  whom  a  child  had  seen  hunting 
cattle.  The  child  had  told  her  story  to  her  father,  the 
father  to  the  neighborhood,  and  the  inhabitants,  terrified 
out  of  reason,  had  abandoned  their  homes  and  fled  to  a 
place  of  refuge.  The  next  day  other  scouts,  who  had  been 
sent  farther  on,  returned  with  letters  from  the  outposts, 
stating  that  the  Indians  had  gone  off.  They  were  supposed 
to  be  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  and  had,  in 
their  raid  into  the  distant  settlements,  killed  and  taken 
prisoners  about  seventy  men,  and  destroyed  several  planta- 
tions and  houses. 

The  panic  of  the  inhabitants  at  those  massacres  reached 
almost  to  frenzy,  and  they  crowded  the  roads  across  the 
Blue  Ridge,  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  a  company  of 
rangers  could  effect  a  passage. 

But  the  Indians  having  retired,  Washington  repaired  to 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  69 

the  seat  of  government,  and,  by  dint  of  perseverance,  pre- 
vailed on  the  assembly  to  pass  a  bill  giving  power  to  the 
commander  to  hold  court-martials  and  punish  mutiny,  deser- 
tion and  disobedience.  Having  accomplished  this  he  re- 
turned to  head-quarters  in  better  spirits,  and  began  to 
prepare  for  an  early  spring  campaign.  Sometimes  at  Alex- 
andria and  again  at  Fort  Cumberland,  going  from  post  to 
post,  and  placing  everything  on  the  best  possible  footing 
that  his  means  allowed,  he  passed  the  latter  part  of  autumn 
and  the  first  half  of  winter.  His  duties  were  laborious  and 
harassing  in  the  extreme,  and  he  here  had  an  admirable 
training  in  the  school  of  patience,  which  enabled  him  after- 
ward to  bear  with  the  meanness,  dilatoriness  and  inefficiency 
of  Congress. 

In  the  mean  time  an  event  occurred,  which  shows  to  what 
a  ruinous  point  the  petty  rivalries  and  jealousies  of  officers 
and  the  spirit  of  insubordination  had  reached  in  the  colo- 
nies. At  Fort  Cumberland  was  stationed  a  Captain  Dag- 
worthy,  who  had  been  put  there  by  Governor  Sharpe  of 
Maryland.  Having  held  a  royal  commission,  he  considered 
himself  superior  in  rank  to  any  provincial  officer,  and  hence 
refused  to  pay  any  regard  to  Washington's  orders.  This, 
of  course,  the  latter  would  not  submit  to,  and  wrote  to 
Governor  Dinwiddie  for  express  orders  on  the  subject.  But 
the  wary  governor,  remembering  that  he  himself  had  for- 
merly sanctioned  this  very  assumption  of  rank  of  the  regu- 
lar commissioned  officers  over  the  provincials  of  higher 
grade,  and  reflecting,  too,  that  the  fort  was  in  the  province 
of  Maryland,  whose  governor  he  knew  upheld  the  captain, 
he  refused  to  give  any  orders.  He  did  not  hesitate,  how- 
ever, to  intimate  pretty  clearly  that  Washington  had  better 
arrest  the  refractory  captain.  But  the  latter  was  not  thus 
to  be  caught,  and  wrote  back  that  his  authority  must  be 
confirmed,  or  he  should  at  once  resign  his  commission.  As 
a  last  resort,  it  was  proposed  to  refer  the  matter  to  Gover- 


70  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

nor  Shirley,  in  Boston,  who  at  this  time  was  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  British  forces  in  the  colonies.  Washington 
was  appointed  bearer  of  his  own  petition,  and  on  the  4th 
of  February,  accompanied  by  his  aid-de-camp  Captain  Mer- 
cer, and  Captain  Stewart,  set  out  on  horseback  for  Boston. 
That  a  paltry  captain,  commanding  only  thirty  men,  should 
thus  arrest  the  military  operations  of  a  whole  state,  and 
send  the  commander-in-chief  of  its  forces  five  hundred 
miles,  in  the  dead  of  winter,  on  horseback,  to  settle  whether 
he  should  obey  orders  given  for  mutual  benefit  and  the 
common  good,  seems,  at  this  day,  quite  incomprehensible. 
But  this  peculiar  sensitiveness  respecting  individual  rights, 
though  often  exhibiting  itself  in  absurd  forms,  was  never- 
theless necessary  to  the  development  of  that  spirit  of  resist- 
ance to  the  encroachments  of  the  mother  country,  which 
afterward  secured  our  independence. 

Accompanied  by  his  two  subordinates,  the  young  colonel 
took  his  long,  cold  and  dreary  journey  northward.  The  re- 
port of  his  chivalric  and  gallant  character  had  preceded  him, 
and  he  was  every  where  received  with  courtesy  and  honor. 
Valuable  acquaintances  were  formed  and  useful  know- 
ledge gained.  Mr.  Beverly  Robinson,  a  strong  loyalist,  and 
in  the  Revolution  afterward  a  Tory,  received  him  at  New 
York  as  his  guest,  and  entertained  him  with  rare  hospitality. 
A  sister  of  Mrs.  Robinson  was  staying  in  the  family  at  the 
time,  whose  beauty  and  winning  manners  soon  took  captive 
the  chivalric  heart  of  the  young  southern  colonel.  He  had 
forgotten  his  lowland  beauty,  and  when  he  bade  adieu  to 
the  hospitable  mansion  of  Mr.  Robinson,  to  prosecute  his 
journey  to  Boston,  he  felt  that  he  had  left  a  large  portion 
of  his  happiness  behind  him. 

Having  obtained  full  and  ample  authority  from  Governor 
Shirley,  lie  returned  to  New  York,  and  was  again  placed 
under  the  influence  of  Miss  Phillips'  charms.  Lingering 
here  as  long  as  duty  would  permit  him,  he  at  length  turned 


LIFE    OP   WASHINGTON.  71 

his  reluctant  footsteps  southward.  Whether  he  gave  the 
lady  any  indications  of  his  passion,  or  whether  he  resolved 
to  wait  till  more  leisure  would  furnish  him  a  better  oppor- 
tunity of  renewing  his  suit,  does  not  appear.  At  all  events, 
he  was  deeply  in  love,  and  could  not  leave  until  he  had 
confessed  it  to  a  friend,  and  engaged  him  to  keep  watch  of 
her  movements,  so  that  if  any  rival  appeared  he  could  be 
informed  of  it  at  once.  In  a  short  time  a  young  officer, 
one  of  Braddock's  aids  and  an  acquaintance  of  Washington, 
became  a  suitor  of  Miss  Phillips.  Washington's  friend 
immediately  wrote  him  of  the  dangerous  state  of  affairs, 
and  told  him,  if  he  wished  to  win  the  lady,  he  must  come 
on  at  once.  But  whether  the  duties  of  his  command  de- 
tained him  at  home,  or  whether,  having  ascertained  the 
name  of  his  rival,  he  was  too  magnanimous  to  endeavor  to 
supplant  him,  was  never  known.  She,  however,  passed 
away  with  the  "  lowland  beauty,"  leaving  the  young  colonel 
to  forget  his  passion  in  the  exciting  scenes  of  the  camp. 

Reaching  Williamsburg  about  the  time  of  the  meeting 
of  the  assembly,  he  set  about  arranging  with  the  governor 
a  plan  for  the  summer  campaign.  The  want  of  artillery, 
means  of  transportation,  etc.,  rendered  offensive  operations 
impossible,  and  it  was  resolved  simply  to  defend  the  frontier 
already  occupied  by  British  outposts.  The  jealousy  of  the 
separate  states  preventing  them  from  uniting  in  a  common 
campaign  against  the  French,  Virginia,  which  was  most 
threatened,  was  left  alone  to  defend  her  extensive  borders. 
A  bill  was  therefore  passed  to  raise  the  army  to  fifteen  hun- 
dred men,  and  another  for  drafting  the  militia,  when  recruits 
were  wanting. 


72  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON, 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Fresh  Hostilities  of  the  Indians — Attempts  to  Supersede  Washington — Anonymous 
Libels — Washington  wishes  to  Resign — Prevented  by  his  Friends — Establishes 
a  Line  of  Forts — Harassing  Nature  of  his  Duties — Attends  a  Convention  at 
Philadelphia — His  Sickness  and  Retirement  to  Mount  Vernon— Progress  of  the 
War — Frederick  the  Great — Washington's  first  Acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Custis — 
Advance  of  the  Army  to  Fort  Du  Quesne — Washington  required  to  cut  a  New 
Road — His  Forebodings  likely  to  prove  true — Capture  of  the  Fort — Election  of 
Washington  to  the  House  of  Burgesses — His  Marriage — Life  at  Mount  Vernon — 
Collision  with  a  Poacher— Settles  the  Soldiers'  Claims—  Expedition  to  the  Western 
Wilderness  to  examine  the  Wild  Lands — Admirable  Preparation  for  his  Future 
Career. 

WASHINGTON  repaired  to  head-quarters  at  Winchester. 
But  few  troops,  however,  were  there,  the  greater  part  being 
stationed  in  the  different  forts  on  the  frontier. 

The  savages,  emboldened  by  the  long  inaction  of  the 
whites,  began  to  hover  in  dark  and  threatening  war  clouds 
around  the  settlements.  The  more  remote  ones  being 
abandoned,  the  Indians  pushed  forward  to  those  bej^ond  the 
Blue  Ridge,  and  swooped  down  around  the  very  head-quar- 
ters of  the  commander-in-chief.  Scouting  parties  were 
driven  in — forts  boldly  attacked,  and  officers  killed.  The 
woods  seemed  alive  with  the  lurking  foe — men  were  shot 
down  in  the  field,  and  women  and  children  found  massacred 
on  the  floors  of  their  own  dwellings.  From  every  direction 
came  tales  of  horror  and  thrilling  accounts  of  suffering  and 
torture.  Spreading  terror  along  the  whole  frontier,  the 
savages  penetrated  to  within  a  few  miles  of  Winchester, 
killing  officers  and  men.  With  but  few  soldiers  under  his 
command,  Washington  could  not  be  omnipresent,  while  it 
would  not  answer  to  withdraw  any  of  the  garrisons,  for 
large  numbers  of  the  settlers  were  gathered  in  every  fort. 
Growing  bolder  by  success,  the  savages  seriously  threatened 
the  forts  themselves,  and  Washington  expected  every  day 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  73 

to  hear  of  their  fall  and  the  massacre  of  all  within.  With 
a  heart  swelling  with  indignation  and  pity,  he  entreated  the 
assembly  to  send  him  help.  To  add  to  his  anguish,  com- 
plaints continually  reached  him  of  the  gross  misconduct 
of  some  of  his  officers,  and  murmurs  against  him  began  to 
rise  in  various  quarters.  An  anonymous  writer  published 
in  a  newspaper  all  the  floating  and  exaggerated  rumors 
respecting  the  officers,  and  though  not  daring  to  charge  the 
blame  directly  on  Washington,  he  yet  plainly  hinted  that  a 
leader  should  be  held  responsible  for  the  irregularities  of 
his  subordinates.  A  faction  of  Scotchmen  had  been  formed, 
whose  purpose  was  to  get  rid  of  the  present  commander-in- 
chief,  and  place  colonel  Innies  in  his  place.  Disgusted,  and, 
for  the  time,  depressed,  by  the  apathy  of  the  government, 
his  own  fettered  condition,  the  false  accusations  made  by 
anonymous  writers,  and  above  all,  by  the  sufferings  of  the 
inhabitants,  which  he  had  not  the  power  to  relieve,  Wash- 
ington wished  to  resign  his  commission.  In  a  letter  to  the 
governor,  after  depicting  the  deplorable  condition  of  things, 
he  says  :  "  I  am  too  little  acquainted,  sir,  with  pathetic  lan- 
guage, to  attempt  a  description  of  the  people's  distresses, 
though  I  have  a  generous  soul,  sensible  of  wrongs  and 
swelling  for  redress.  I  see  their  situation,  know  their  dan- 
ger, and  participate  in  their  sufferings,  without  having  it  in 
my  power  to  give  them  further  relief  than  uncertain  pro- 
mises." These  things,  together  with  the  unmerited  abuse 
heaped  upon  the  officers,  and  thus,  indirectly  upon  himself, 
make  him  regret  the  day  he  accepted  his  commission ;  while 
the  prayers  and  tears  of  men  and  women,  begging  for  that 
relief  he  cannot  afford,  and  the  increasing  reports  of  Indian 
murders  and  cruelty,  which  will  be  laid  to  his  charge,  as 
commander-in-chief,  fill  up  the  cup  of  bitterness  which  he 
is  compelled  to  drink,  and  he  exclaims :  "  The  supplicating 
tears  of  the  women,  and  moving  petitions  of  the  men,  melt 
me  into  such  deadly  sorrow,  that  I  solemnly  declare,  if  I 


74  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

know  my  own  mind,  I  could  offer  myself  a  willing  sacrifice 
to  the  butchering  enemy,  provided  that  would  contribute  to 
the  people's  ease."  It  was  enough  to  move  a  heart  of 
stone,  to  see  that  young  man,  only  twenty-four  years  of  age, 
burning  to  rescue  the  defenseless  inhabitants,  and  panting 
for  action ;  standing  with  idle  hands  and  fettered  feet,  sur- 
rounded with  gray-haired  fathers  and  weeping  orphans, 
whom  the  Indians  had  bereft  of  friends,  his  ears  constantly 
stunned  with  tales  of  horrid  murder,  praying  in  bitterness 
of  spirit,  that  he  might  be  offered  up  a  sacrifice,  to  effect 
that  which  an  inefficient  government  will  not  permit  him 
to  do. 

His  friends  in  the  council  and  assembly,  were  alarmed  at 
the  intimation  that  he  wished  to  resign,  and  appealed  to 
his  patriotism  and  pride  to  dissuade  him  from  so  fatal  a 
purpose.  They  declared  no  one  believed  the  libels  that 
appeared  in  print,  and  soon  the  author  of  them  would  be 
detected.  A  letter  from  London,  probably  had  more  effect 
than  any  other  remonstrance.  The  sagacious  patriot  told 
Washington  that  his  resignation  was  probably  the  very 
result  his  libeler  was  after,  so  that  he  himself  might  take 
his  place.  He  knew  this  would  tell  on  the  high,  sensitive 
spirit  of  Washington,  and  he  wound  up  with,  "  No  sir, 
rather  let  Braddock's  bed  be  your  aim,  t]ian  any  thing 
might  discolor  those  laurels  which  I  promise  myself  are 
kept  in  store  for  you." 

The  plot  being  discovered,  its  authors  were  covered  with 
disgrace,  and  Washington  retained  his  command.  His 
position,  however,  continued  to  be  a  most  trying  one. 
The  officious  governor,  not  content  with  taking  care  of 
matters  at  home,  using  his  power  to  augment,  pay,  clothe 
and  feed  the  army,  was  constantly  intermeddling  with  its 
movements,  perplexing  and  harassing  Washington  beyond 
measure  with  his  absurd  orders. 

The  summer  and  autumn  [1T56]  were  passed  in  building 


Burial  of  Braddock. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  77 

forts  and  defending  the  country  from  Indian  encroach- 
ments, still  every  thing  was  in  confusion.  Soldiers  were 
wanted,  and  if  furnished,  there  was  no  clothing  nor 
provisions  prepared  for  them.  Those  already  enrolled 
received  only  six-pence,  sterling,  per  day,  two  of  the  eight- 
pence  allowed  being  kept  back  to  buy  clothing  with, 
which,  some  how  or  other,  failed  to  reach  its  destination. 

Washington  wished  to  hold  only  a  few  forts,  and  have 
them  well  garrisoned.  Fort  Cumberland  being  out  of  the 
state,  and  too  far  in  advance  of  the  settlements  that  re- 
mained, to  be  of  any  service,  he  proposed  to  abandon  it, 
or  at  least  withdraw  all  the  troops  with  the  exception  of  a 
single  company,  and  build  another  fort  between  it  and 
Winchester.  But  the  governor  would  not  listen  to  the  pro- 
posal, while  instead  of  lessening  the  number  of  forts,  the 
assembly  proposed  to  extend  a  line  of  them  from  the 
Potomac  to  North  Carolina — running  for  three  hundred 
miles  through  the  Alleghanies.  Washington  asked  for 
more  men,  and  the  assembly  replied  by  bidding  him  build 
more  forts.  The  former  declared  the  garrisons  were  quite 
weak  enough  already,  without  spreading  them  over  a  still 
larger  surface,  thus  provoking  the  enemy  to  cut  them  off  in 
detail.  His  remonstrance,  however,  had  no  effect ;  these 
civilians  knew  more  than  the  commander-in-chief ;  and  he 
set  about  the  arduous  work  forced  upon  him  with  all  his 
accustomed  energy.  The  line  on  which  the  forts  were  to 
be  erected  was  determined  by  a  council  of  officers  at  Fort 
Cumberland,  and  soon  tools  and  men  were  dispatched  to 
the  different  localities.  These  Washington  visited  in  turn, 
and  once  made  the  entire  tour  of  three  hundred  miles, 
exposed  almost  every  step  of  his  progress  to  the  rifle  shot  of 
the  savage.  Most  of  the  way  he  had  no  escort  but  a  ser- 
vant and  guide,  and  thus  accompanied,  passed  on  one 
occasion  a  spot  where,  an  hour  afterward,  two  men  were 
killed  by  the  Indians.  He  found  the  militia  insubordinate, 

5 


78  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  officers  away,  and  every  thing  at  loose  ends.  There 
was  no  vigilance — no  discipline.  In  one  case  he  found  the 
militia  stubbornly  refusing  to  lift  their  hands  toward 
erecting  the  fort,  till  paid  forty  pounds  of  tobacco,  which 
they  declared  to  be  their  due.  The  works,  however,  were 
slowly  carried  forward,  and  the  sound  of  the  pickaxe  and 
hammer — the  call  of  the  teamster,  and  the  morning  and 
evening  gun,  awoke  the  echoes  of  that  vast  wilderness, 
marking  the  barrier  which  the  white  man  had  reared 
against  the  savage,  who  from  that  time  on  has  been 
crowded  back,  till  the  shadows  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
now  fall  on  his  lodges. 

Washington's  letters  to  Governor  Dinwiddie,  during  the 
summer  and  autumn,  are  a  succession  of  appeals  to  put  the 
military  of  the  state  on  a  better  footing.  Families  butch- 
ered within  twelve  miles  of  his  head-quarters — insubordina- 
tion of  his  troops — the  want  of  clothing,  provisions  and 
arms — complaints  of  being  compelled  to  be  in  turn  his  own 
commissary  and  engineer — that  to-day  he  is  supplied  with 
one  batch  of  orders,  to-morrow  with  others  directly  contra- 
dictory— troubles  with  Quakers  who  had  been  drafted,  but 
wrould  "  be  whipped  to  death  "  rather  than  fight — short 
levies  of  soldiers — court-martials  for  desertion — empty  mili- 
tary chest — skirmishes  with  the  Indians,  and  often  bootless 
pursuit  of  them — constant  struggle  writh  difficulties,  where 
no  glory  could  be  gained,  made  up  the  budget  of  the  sum- 
mer. The  encouraging  letters  of  staunch  friends — the 
advice  of  Col.  Fairfax  to  read  Caesar's  Commentaries  and 
Quintius  Curtius,  in  order  to  learn  how  to  bear  trials,  were 
all  very  well  in  their  way,  yet  a  poor  compensation  for 
what  he  suffered. 

At  this  early  stage  of  his  career  he  commenced  that  strict 
discipline  which  he  ever  after  maintained  in  an  army  of  the 
most  irregular  troops  in  the  world.  Hearing  that  profanity 
prevailed  in  his  regiment,  he  issued  an  order  of  the  day,  in 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  79 

which  "  the  officers  are  desired,  if  they  hear  any  man 
swear,  or  make  use  of  any  oath  or  execration,  to  order  the 
offender  twenty-five  lashes  immediately,  without  a  court- 
martial.  For  the  second  offense  he  will  be  more  severely 
punished."  To  a  captain  who  had  taken  advantage  of  his 
years  to  write  somewhat  haughtily  to  his  young  colonel,  he 
replied  that  he  had  heard  bad  reports  of  him,  and  concluded 
by  saying,  "If  I  hear  any  just  complaints  against  you,  you 
may  expect  to  answer  them."  To  another  captain,  whose 

lieutenant  was  refractory,  he  wrote,  "  Tell  Mr.  L he  is 

not  to  stir  from  his  post  at  his  peril  until  he  has  leave ;  if  he 
does,  I  will  arrest  him  for  his  disobedience  of  orders,  and 
try  him  as  soon  as  he  arrives  here." 

Earl  Loudon  had  succeeded  Governor  Shirley  in  the  chief 
command  in  the  colonies,  and  was  now  on  his  way  to  this 
country.  He  was  expected  to  land  in  Virginia,  and  Wash- 
ington, in  anticipation  of  his  arrival,  drew  up  a  lucid  paper, 
containing  a  narrative  of  events  since  the  beginning  of  hos- 
tilities, pointed  out  the  errors  that  had  been  made,  and  sug- 
gested the  course  that  should  be  adopted  in  future.  Loudon, 
however,  did  not  go  to  Virginia,  but  called  a  meeting 
[March,  1757,]  of  the  different  governors  and  chief  officers 
at  Philadelphia.  Washington  was  among  the  number,  and 
Was  received  by  the  commander-in-chief  with  marked  atten- 
tion. In  that  convention  it  was  decided  that,  in  prosecut- 
ing the  war  which  had  now  been  openly  declared  by 
England  against  France,  the  whole  force  of  the  army  should 
be  directed  against  the  Canada  borders.  Virginia  was  to  be 
left  to  carry  out  her  defensive  operations,  which  doomed 
Washington  to  the  perplexing,  harassing  life  of  the  past 
year.  He  returned  to  Winchester,  recalled  the  troops  from 
Fort  Cumberland,  by  order  of  Loudon,  and  employed  him- 
self in  resisting  the  encroachments  of  the  Indians. 

During  the  summer  [1757]  he  was  subject  to  the  orders 
of  Colonel  Stanwix,  stationed  in  Pennsylvania,  whom  Lou- 


80  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

don  had  placed  over  the  middle  and  southern  provinces.  In 
the  mean  time  he  urged  an  expedition  against  Fort  Dn 
Quesne,  declaring  that  the  mustering  of  forces  in  the  north 
had  so  exhausted  the  French  garrisons  along  the  Ohio  that 
they  would  fall  an  easy  conquest.  The  governor  coincided 
with  him  in  his  views,  but  he  was  not  allowed  to  carry  them 
out,  and  the  summer  wore  away  in  struggling  with  the  old 
difficulties,  and  in  skirmishes  with  the  Indians,  whose  pre- 
sence near  the  fort  was  always  announced  by  the  murder 
of  white  men. 

But  in  the  autumn  Washington  began  to  decline  in  health. 
His  magnificent  constitution  was  evidently  sinking,  and, 
though  he  endeavored  for  a  while  to  bear  up  against  the 
pressure  of  disease,  he  at  length  yielded  before  it,  and 
retired  to  Mount  Yernon  and  took  to  his  bed.  Although 
his  physical  labors  had  been  of  the  most  exhausting  kind, 
it  was  not  so  much  these  as  the  harassed  and  perplexed 
state  of  mind  he  was  kept  in  by  others,  that  finally  broke 
him  down.  A  slow  fever  settled  upon  him,  and  for  four 
months  he  was  kept  at  home  an  invalid. 

In  January,  Governor  Dinwiddie  sailed  for  England,  leav- 
ing few  regrets  behind  him.  Although  zealous  and  active 
in  the  service  of  the  colonies,  he  was  petulant,  meddlesome, 
and  a  constant  marplot  to  most  of  the  military  operations 
of  Washington.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  career  he  seemed 
to  delight  in  thwarting  the  plans  of  the  young  officer  whom 
he  had  at  first  befriended.  For  defeating  one  of  them  he 
ought  to  be  held  in  grateful  remembrance.  It  was  the 
earnest  desire  of  Washington  to  enter  the  regular  army, 
and  he  set  on  foot  measures  to  secure  his  transfer,  and 
would  have  succeeded  but  for  the  interference  of  the  gover- 
nor. What  effect  on  his  future  career  his  duty  and  honor 
as  a  British  officer  would  have  had,  it  is  impossible  to  deter- 
mine, but  probably  quite  enough  to  prevent  his  becoming 
commander-in-chief  of  the  rebel  forces. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  81 

The  great  interest  of  the  colonies  now  gathered  round 
the  northern  border,  where  two  strong  armies  were  assem- 
bling to  decide  the  fate  of  a  continent.  But  both  Loudon 
and  Abercrombie  seemed  in  no  haste  to  precipitate  a  crisis, 
and  let  the  months  wear  away  in  idleness.  All  this  time 
the  small,  rapid,  irritable,  yet  clear-headed  Field-Marshal 
Montcalm  was  improving  every  hour.  Loading  the  Indians 
with  presents,  but  refusing  them  rum,  singing  with  the  dif- 
ferent tribes  their  war-songs,  he  aroused  their  enthusiasm 
and  bound  them  to  him  by  strong  affection.  Their  activity 
in  his  service  soon  drenched  the  frontier  in  blood. 

About  two  months  before  Washington  retired  to  Mount 
Vernon  sick,  the  capture  and  massacre  of  Fort  William 
Henry  took  place — the  Braddock  defeat  of  the  north. 
Every  movement  of  the  regular  troops  proved  disastrous,  and 
the  provincials  effected  all  that  was  done.  The  English 
had  not  now  a  foothold  in  the  basin  of  the  Ohio ;  they  had 
been  driven  away  from  the  St.  Lawrence,  both  sides  of 
which  the  French  held  possession.  The  northern  lakes, 
too,  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  latter,  and  their  armies, 
swelled  by  vast  hordes  of  Indians,  threatened  to  sweep 
downward  to  Albany.  The  British  arms  and  the  provinces 
were  disgraced.  All  this  Washington  saw  and  felt,  as  he 
lay  and  tossed  on  his  feverish  bed.  But  Pitt  once  more 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  government,  and  it  was  expected 
that  under  his  energetic  administration,  affairs  would  soon 
assume  a  different  aspect.  As  a  relief  to  the  inertness  and 
imbecility  of  these  distinguished  commanders  came  the 
war-shout  of  Frederic  of  Prussia,  from  the  heights  of  Ross- 
bach,  as  with  twenty  thousand  men  he  chased  sixty  thou- 
sand before  him — and  the  loud  chorus  of  his  troops  as  they 
stormed  over  the  batteries  of  Leuthen.  Standing  up  in 
central  Europe,  this  strong-hearted  hero  "  determined  to 
save  his  country  or  perish."  With  Russia,  Sweden,  Austria 
and  France  closing1  steadily  upon  him  with  their  powerful 


82  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

armies,  his  brave  spirit  only  rose  with  the  increasing  dan- 
ger. "  To  save  the  state,"  said  he,  "  I  dare  the  impossible." 
"  The  number  and  position  of  the  enemy  are  not  questions 
to  be  thought  of.  We  must  beat  them,  or  all  of  us  find  our 
graves  before  their  batteries."  About  going  into  battle,  he 
said — "  The  regiment  of  cavalry  that  shall  not  instantly 
charge  when  ordered,  shall  be  dismounted  and  sent  into 
garrison — the  battalion  of  infantry  that  shall  but  falter, 
shall  lose  its  colors  and  its  swords.  Now  farewell,  friends ; 
soon  we  shall  have  vanquished,  or  see  each  other  no  more." 
With  these  brave  words,  though  outnumbered  three  to  one, 
he  turned  on  his  powerful  adversaries  in  succession,  and 
with  blow  after  blow,  that  astounded  the  civilized  world, 
overwhelmed  their  pride  and  redeemed  his  country.  Such 
tidings  ever  and  anon  came  to  Washington's  ears,  as  he  lay 
an  invalid,  showing  that  his  views  of  a  true  hero  were  not 
ideal.  Frederic  became  one  of  his  favorite  characters ;  he 
watched  his  struggle  with  the  deepest  sympathy,  and  was 
no  doubt  influenced  much  in  after  life  by  his  conduct  and 
character.  He  was  the  only  living  man  of  whom  Wash- 
ington had  a  bust  in  his  house  at  Mount  Vernon. 

As  spring  opened  Washington  slowly  improved ;  but  he 
considered  his  constitution  so  thoroughly  broken  down  that 
it  would  require  great  care  and  a  long  time  to  recruit,  and 
he  seriously  contemplated  resigning  his  command  and  all 
prospects  of  preferment.  He,  however,  changed  his  pur- 
pose, and  in  March  set  out  to  join  the  army.  The  effort 
of  travel  brought  on  a  return  of  his  disease,  but  he  ral- 
lied again,  and  soon  after  resumed  his  command  at  Fort 
London. 

In  the  mean  time  Pitt  had  made  some  changes  in  colo- 
nial matters.  Francis  Fauquier  was  appointed  to  take  the 
place  of  Dinwiddie,  and  Forbes  of  Stariwix.  Loudon  had 
been  superseded  by  Jeffrey  Amherst,  who  was  seconded  by 
the  gallant  Wolf,  while — though  Abercrombie  retained  his 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  83 

command — Lord  Howe  had  been  appointed  as  the  real 
leader  of  the  enterprise  intrusted  to  him.  Three  expedi- 
tions were  planned — one-  under  Amherst  and  Admiral  Bos- 
cawan  against  Louisburg — a  second  under  Abercrombie 
against  Ticonderoga,  and  the  third  under  Forbes  to  effect 
the  conquest  of  the  Ohio  valley.  To  insure  the  cheerful 
cooperation  of  the  colonists,  Pitt  wrote  them  a  circular  let- 
ter, calculated  to  inspire  all  with  new  spirit.  Arms,  ammu- 
nition, tents  and  provisions  would  thereafter  be  supplied  by 
the  king,  while  the  provincial  officers  were  to  hold  equal 
rank  with  those  of  the  regular  army.  The  Virginia  assem- 
bly immediately  met  and  voted  to  increase  the  army  to  two 
thousand  men.  These,  divided  into  two  regiments,  and 
acting  in  concert  with  his  majesty's  troops,  were  designated 
to  march  against  Fort  Du  Quesne. 

It  was  about  this  time,  while  on  his  way  to  Williams- 
burg,  that  Washington  was  first  made  acquainted  with  the 
young  widow  who  was  destined  to  become  his  wife.  The 
young  colonel,  in  military  undress,  mounted  on  a  splendid 
charger  and  attended  by  a  single  tall  body  servant,  both 
the  gift  of  the  dying  Braddock  as  he  fled  from  the  fatal 
field  of  Monongahela,  had  just  crossed  Williams's  Ferry, 
over  the  Pamunkey,  a  branch  of  York  river,  when  he  was 
met  by  Mr.  Chamberlayne,  a  Virginia  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  who  invited  him  to  his  house.  Washington  excused 
himself,  on  the  ground  of  urgent  business  with  the  gover- 
nor. But  the  hospitable  planter  would  take  no  denial,  and 
at  last  succeeded  in  turning  the  scale  by  promising  to  intro- 
duce him  to  a  young  and  beautiful  widow.  The  colonel 
finally  consented  to  stop  and  dine — nothing  more.  A  short 
delay  could  be  made  up  by  hard  riding  and  pressing  further 
into  the  night.  In  dismounting  he  gave  his  horse  into  the 
charge  of  his  servant  Bishop,  with  explicit  instructions  to 
have  him  at  the  door  at  a  certain  hour.  Giving  his  arm  to 
his  guest,  the  hospitable  planter  entered  the  house  and 


84  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

introduced  him  to  his  family.  The  young  Virginia  colonel 
immediately  drew  every  eye  upon  him,  for  a  fine  command- 
ing appearance  heightened  rather  than  lessened  the  romance 
that  gathered  around  his  chivalrous  and  adventurous  life. 
The  young  widow  was  handsome,  fascinating,  and  possessed 
of  a  large  fortune,  and  was  moreover  the  widow  of  a  colo- 
nel. Colonel  Washington  was  also  rich,  of  high  family 
connections,  and,  above  all,  possessed  that  which  ever 
attracts  woman,  a  valiant,  heroic  heart,  that  would  beat  as 
calmly  amid  whistling  bullets  and  death  and  carnage  as  in 
its  peaceful  slumbers.  The  lady  was  only  three  months 
younger  than  he,  and  from  the  first  did  not  disguise  her 
admiration  of  the  youthful  hero.  On  the  other  hand,  her 
society  was  so  agreeable  to  Washington,  that  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  forgot  his  own  appointment.  His  servant 
Bishop,  punctual  to  his  orders,  had  the  two  horses  saddled 
and  bridled,  standing  at  the  gate  at  the  time  appointed. 
Contrary  to  all  military  rules,  arid  all  former  experience, 
his  master  did  not  make  his  appearance.  Lingering  under 
the  sweet  influence  of  the  beautiful  young  widow,  the  time 
slipped  unconsciously  away.  At  length,  as  the  sun  stooped 
behind  the  western  wilderness,  the  planter  stepped  forward 
and  declared  that  it  was  contrary  to  the  rules  of  his  estate 
to  allow  a  guest  to  leave  the  house  after  sundown.  Wash- 
ington laughingly  acknowledged  that  he  felt  bound  to  sub- 
mit to  such  wholesome  regulations,  and  was  soon  forgetful 
of  every  thing  but  the  fascinating  woman  beside  him. 
Other  dreams  than  those  of  military  glory  visited  his  pil- 
low that  night,  and  other  hopes  impelled  him  forward,  as 
next  morning  he  continued  his  journey  to  Williamsburg. 

On  his  return  he  stopped  again  at  the  "White  House" 
of  his  friend,  and  surrendered  at  discretion  to  the  bloom- 
ing widow. 

The  charms  of  his  betrothed,  however,  could  not  detain 
him  from  the  duties  of  his  command,  and  he  soon  was 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  85 

giving  his  whole  soul  to  the  expedition  before  him.  In 
this  campaign  he  determined,-  if  possible,  to  have  a  chap- 
lain. All  his  solicitations  on  this  point  had  thus  far  been 
disregarded,  and  he  wrote  to  the  president  of  the  council 
urging  the  appointment  of  one,  saying,  "  Common  decency, 
sir,  in  a  camp  calls  for  the  services  of  a  divine,  which  ought 
not  to  be  dispensed  with,  although  there  should  be  those 
so  uncharitable  as  to  think  us  void  of  religion,  and  inca- 
pable of  good  instructions." 

The  ardor,  however,  with  which  he  commenced  prepara- 
tions was  soon  chilled  by  the  absurd  determination  of  Forbes 
to  cut  a  new  road  to  Fort  Du  Quesne  from  Pennsylvania, 
instead  of  using  the  old  one  made  by  Braddock.  It  was 
now  the  latter  part  of  summer,  and  he  knew  that  by 
this  arrangement  the  winter  would  find  the  army  shut  up 
midway  in  the  wilderness.  Independent  of  the  necessity 
of  dispatch  and  the  importance  of  saving  labor,  Braddock's 
route  was  known  to  be  the  best  through  the  mountains, 
even  though  a  new  road  were  required.  Washington  ex- 
hausted argument  and  persuasion  to  dissuade  Forbes  and 
his  second  in  command,  Colonel  Bouquet,  from  this  insane 
purpose.  He  saw  another  Braddock'*  defeat  in  it,  and  was 
distressed  beyond  measure  at  the  prospect  before  the  army. 
Said  he,  if  it  is  undertaken,  "  all  is  lost ;  our  enterprise  will 
be  ruined,  and  we  shall  be  stopped  at  the  Laurel  Hill  this 
winter — not  to  gather  laurels,  except  of  the  kind  that  covers 
the  mountains." 

The  first  of  autumn  found  Washington  still  at  the  camp 
near  Fort  Cumberland,  filled  with  despondency  and  fore- 
bodings at  the  fatal  determination  of  his  commander.  Sick- 
ness had  entered  the  army,  and  the  troops,  weary  and 
dispirited  by  their  long  inactivity,  turned  with  disgust  from 
the  prospect  before  them.  "  That  appearance  of  glory," 
said  Washington,  "  which  we  had  once  in  view,  that  hope, 
that  laudable  ambition  of  serving  our  country  and  meriting 


86  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

its  applause,  are  now  no  more.  ...  In  a  word,  all  is  lost 
if  the  ways  of  men  in  power,  like  certain  ways  of  Provi- 
dence, are  not  inscrutable.  .  .  .  The  conduct  of  our  leaders, 
if  not  actuated  by  superior  orders,  is  tempered  with  some- 
thing I  do  not  care  to  give  a  name  to.  Nothing  now  but  a 
miracle  can  bring  this  campaign  to  a  happy  issue." 

The  general,  however,  remained  immovable  on  the  route 
to  be  taken,  but  in  all  other  things  paid  great  deference  to 
Washington.  The  latter,  with  a  thousand  men,  was  sent  in 
advance  of  the  main  army,  to  cut  the  road  for  a  hundred 
miles  through  the  wilderness.  Guided  by  blazed  trees,  he 
began  his  long  and  tedious  march.  Streams  had  to  be 
bridged,  ravines  filled  up,  and  redoubts  erected.  Working 
from  daylight  till  dark  to  gain  six  or  seven  miles,  the  troops 
saw  winter  fast  approaching,  with  the  almost  certain  pros- 
pect of  passing  it  in  the  mountains.  Washington,  how-, 
ever,  infused  his  own  spirit  into  the  officers  and  men,  and 
continued  steadily  to  pierce  the  wilderness.  Filled  with 
memories  of  the  past  that  clustered  around  a  region  with 
which  he  had  been  familiar  since  boyhood — recalling  to 
mind  his  first  defeat  at  Fort  Necessity,  and  the  fearful  rout 
at  Monongahela,  he  hoped  to  wipe  out  the  disgrace  of  both 
in  victory.  Major  Grant,  with  eight  hundred  Highlanders 
and  a  company  of  Virginians,  had  been  sent  forward  by 
Bouquet  to  take  Fort  Du  Quesne,  which,  he  had  been  told 
was  feebly  garrisoned.  Advancing  boldly  on  the  place,  he 
was  assailed  by  the  French  with  such  fury  that  the  High- 
landers broke  and  fled,  leaving  the  gallant  Virginia  company 
to  save  the  army  from  utter  destruction.  The  news  meet- 
ing Washington  in  the  wilderness  did  not  dampen  his 
courage,  but  increased  it,  as  success  would  now  be  a  double 
triumph. 

General  Forbes,  borne  on  a  litter,  with  the  sands  of  life 
ebbing  slowly  away,  writing  to  have  a  "  chimney  built " 
for  his  use  at  every  camp,  followed  slowly  after,  with  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  87 

main  army.  He  did  not  reach  Loyal  Hanna  till  the  5th  of 
November  [1758].  He  had  made  fifty  miles  in  that  time, 
or  an  average  of  one  mile  a  day.  Fifty  miles  more  of 
wilderness  lay  between  the  army  and  Fort  Du  Quesne. 
What  Washington  had  predicted  had  now  come  to  pass. 
The  mountain-tops  were  covered  with  snow — the  frosts  of 
winter  had  come  on,  and  the  soldiers,  unaccustomed  to  such 
hardships,  and  scantily  clothed,  sunk  into  despondency.  It 
was  therefore  resolved,  in  a  council  of  war,  to  proceed  no 
farther  that  season.  With  six  thousand  men  under  his 
command,  and  the  whole  summer  before  him,  Forbes  had 
finally  succeeded  in  getting  his  army  into  the  heart  of  the 
Alleghanies.  Had  he  followed  Washington's  advice,  he 
would  at  this  time  have  been  comfortably  quartered  in  Fort 
Du  Quesne,  his  object  accomplished  and  his  troubles  over. 
In  contrast  to  this  was  a  long  sojourn  in  that  desolate 
forest,  a  miserable  invalid,  or  a  disgraceful  retreat  to  the 
settlements. 

Whilst  things  were  in  this  gloomy  state,  three  French 
prisoners  were  brought  into  camp,  who  reported  the  fort 
wholly  unable  to  make  any  resistance.  This  unexpected, 
accidental  piece  of  good  fortune  alone  saved  the  army  from 
humiliation.  It  was  immediately  resolved  to  push  forward. 
The  tents  and  heavy  baggage  were  left  behind,  and  with  a 
light  train  of  artillery  the  army  again  took  up  its  line  of 
inarch.  Washington  in  advance,  cutting  the  road  before 
him,  led  on  the  column.  Elate  with  joy  at  the  favorable 
turn  events  had  taken,  he  spoke  cheering  words  to  officers 
and  men,  and  once  more  the  blast  of  the  bugle  and  roll  of 
the  drum  were  answered  with  acclamations.  "  All  the 
men,"  he  wrote  back,  "  are  in  fine  spirits  and  anxious  to  go 
on."  He  strained  every  nerve  to  hasten  his  progress  ;  but 
to  make  a  road  for  the  main  army  toiling  in  the  rear,  was 
slow  work,  and  it  took  him  thirteen  days  to  reach  Fort  Du 
Quesne.  As  he  approached  the  place,  the  garrison,  only 


88  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

five  hundred  in  number,  set  fire  at  night  to  the  buildings, 
and,  as  the  flames  lighted  up  the  surrounding  gloom,  leaped 
into  their  boats  and  disappeared  down  the  river.  On  the 
very  spot  where  the  heroic  stripling  had  stood  when  on  his 
way  as  commissioner  to  the  French,  and  which  he  had 
selected  as  an  excellent  locality  for  a  fort,  he  now  again 
stood,  and  gazed  with  kindling  eye  on  the  smouldering 
ruins  before  him.  Du  Quesne,  so  long  the  goal  of  his 
efforts,  was  at  last  won.  The  royal  flag  was  planted  amid 
the  ruins,  and,  as  it  swayed  to  the  breeze,  they  named  the 
place  Pittsburg,  in  honor  of  Pitt,  under  whose  direction  the 
expedition  had  been  undertaken — a  noble  monument  to  the 
great  statesman ;  and,  "  long  as  the  Monongahela  and  the 
Alleghany  shall  flow  to  form  the  Ohio,  long  as  the  English 
tongue  shall  be  the  language  of  freedom  in  the  boundless 
valley  which  their  waters  traverse,  his  name  shall  stand 
inscribed  on  the  Gateway  of  the  West." 

A  small  garrison  was  left  in  the  fort,  and  the  army  began 
its  retrograde  march. 

No  further  interference  from  the  French  was  at  present 
to  be  feared,  while  the  Indians,  deserted  by  their  allies,  no 
longer  threatened  the  settlements.  The  state  was  at  peace, 
and  Washington,  only  twenty-six  years  of  age,  laden  with 
honors,  resigned  his  command,  and  repaired  to  Mount  Ver- 
non  [December]. 

While  on  the  last  campaign  he  had  been  elected  member 
of  the  House  of  Burgesses  from  Frederic  county.  There 
were  four  other  candidates  in  the  field,  and  his  friends  wrote 
him  that  it  was  very  important  he  should  be  on  the  spot. 
This  his  duties  prevented  ;  yet,  notwithstanding  the  advan- 
tage which  his  absence  gave  his  competitors,  he  beat  them 
all.  The  ill-will  that  had  been  engendered  against  him  in 
some  quarters,  on  account  of  the  stern  sway  he  had  often 
been  compelled  to  exercise  over  the  militia,  and  even  the 
inhabitants  themselves,  could  not  offset  the  deep  and  wide 


hinting  of  tin-  Royal  Fl:v,'  on  rlu-  Ruin.*  of  Fort  Du  Que-rit 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  91 

spread  admiration  of  his  conduct  and  character.  Colonel 
Wood  stood  proxy  for  him  in  his  victory,  and  was  carried 
round  the  town  amid  the  deafening  acclamations  of  the 
people,  as  "  Huzza  for  Colonel  Washington"  rent  the  air. 
The  latter,  however,  had  a  nice  little  bill  to  pay,  which  his 
friends,  according  to  custom,  had  run  up  for  him.  One 
hogshead  and  one  barrel  of  punch,  thirty-five  gallons  of 
wine,  forty- three  gallons  of  strong  beer,  any  quantity  of 
cider,  wound  up  writh  a  dinner  to  his  friends,  costing  in  all 
thirty-nine  pounds  and  six  shillings,  or  nearly  two  hundred 
dollars,  was  the  price  paid  for  his  election. 

Having  now  returned  to  private  life,  he  consummated  his 
engagement  with  Mrs.  Custis,  and  a  wedding  was  given 
[January  6th,  1759,]  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  the 
wealth  and  standing  of  the  parties,  and  in  keeping  with  the 
good  old  customs  of  the  time.  From  far  and  near  came  the 
laced  coats  and  powdered  hair  and  long  cues,  till  the  hos- 
pitable mansion  overflowed  with  the  wealth  and  beauty  and 
gaiety  of  the  colony.  And  a  noble  couple  they  wrere — the 
young  colonel  six  feet  three  inches  in  height,  towering 
above  all  around,  and  the  beautiful  bride,  radiant  with  hap- 
piness. The  rafters  of  the  huge  mansion  rung  that  night 
with  mirth  and  gaiety.  The  bride  brought  as  a  dowry 
thirty  thousand  pounds  sterling,  besides  one-third  of  large 
landed  estates.  She  had  two  children ;  a  son,  six  years  old, 
and  a  daughter,  four.  To  the  former  belonged  one-third  ot 
the  estates  left  by  his  father,  while  the  latter  had  the  re- 
maining third,  together  with  ten  thousand  pounds  sterling. 
This  swelled  Washington's  fortune  to  an  enormous  amount 
for  those  days. 

He  did  not  take  his  bride  immediately  to  Mount  Vernon, 
but  repaired  to  Williamsburg,  and  took  his  seat  as  member 
of  the  assembly.  During  the  session  the  speaker  was  di- 
rected, by  a  vote  of  the  House,  "  to  return  thanks  on  behalf 
of  the  colony  to  Colonel  Washington,  for  the  distinguished 


92  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

military  services  he  had  rendered  the  country."  This  the 
eloquent  speaker  did  in  a  manner  to  suit  himself,  and  poured 
forth  a  strain  of  eulogium  at  once  unexpected  and  embar- 
rassing. Washington,  taken  wholly  by  surprise,  rose  to  re- 
ply, but  could  not  stammer  forth  a  single  word.  Out  of  this 
painful  dilemma  the  witty  speaker  helped  him  as  generously 
as  he  had  helped  him  into  it.  "  Sit  down,  Mr.  Washing- 
ton," said  he,  "  your  modesty  equals  your  valor,  and  that 
surpasses  the  power  of  any  language  that  I  possess."  No- 
thing could  be  more  elegant  and  skillful  than  this  double 
stroke,  which  at  once  relieved  Washington,  while  it  en- 
hanced the  compliment. 

In  the  spring  Washington  retired  to  Mount  Vernon,  and 
devoted  himself  to  agricultural  pursuits.  Covered  with 
honor  from  five  years'  faithful  and  arduous  service,  united 
to  a  noble  and  beautiful  woman,  surrounded  with  affluence, 
and  beloved  by  all,  life  at  this  time  spread  out  attractively 
before  him,  and  its  waters  promised  to  bear  him  smoothly 
on  to  the  end  of  his  course. 

He  adorned  his  library  with  the  busts  of  distinguished 
military  chieftains  of  former  ages,  and,  with  true  Virginia 
hospitality,  kept  open  house  for  his  friends.  He  was  inte- 
rested in  every  improvement  in  agriculture — entered  largely 
into  the  cultivation  of  tobacco,  which  he  shipped  directly 
from  his  estates  to  England.  He  was  very  fond  of  hunting, 
and  kept  a  fine  pack  of  hounds,  not  only  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment, but  that  of  his  friends.  He  was  a  splendid  rider, 
and  when  following  the  hounds  in  full  cry,  taking  the  daring 
leap  as  he  flew  over  the  fields,  he  was  the  admiration  of  all. 
Two  or  three  times  a  week,  with  horse  and  dogs,  he  was 
out — his  nature  finding  relief  in  the  excitement  and  clamor 
of  the  chase. 

Duck  shooting  was  another  favorite  pastime,  and  he  spent 
hours  in  his  boat,  stealing  stealthily  on  the  coveys  of  birds, 
or  watching  tbeir  flight  from  his  place  of  concealment. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  93 

His  love  of  this  sport  once  brought  him  in  collision  with  a 
bold,  reckless  fellow,  who  lived  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Potomac,  but  would  often  cross  and  shoot  near  Mount  Ver- 
non.  Washington  had  repeatedly  forbade  his  doing  so,  but 
without  effect.  In  some  secluded  creek  or  nook  the  poacher 
would  hide  away,  and  shoot  at  leisure.  One  day  the 
former  hearing  a  shot,  sprang  on  his  horse  and  galloped 
toward  the  spot  whence  the  sound  came.  The  marauder, 
seeing  him  approach,  ran  for  his  skiff,  and  had  just  time  to 
push  off  from  shore  and  leap  in  as  Washington  galloped  up. 
The  latter  instantly  rode  in  and  seized  the  boat.  The  reck- 
less fellow  within  immediately  leveled  his  gun  at  Washing- 
ton's breast,  swearing  that  he  would  shoot  him  dead  if  he 
did  not  let  him  go.  But  the  southern  blood  of  the  excited 
young  planter  was  up,  and  paying  no  attention  to  his 
threats,  he  drew  the  desperado  fiercely  ashore.  He  then 
disarmed  and  dragged  him  out  upon  the  bank,  and  gave 
him  a  thorough  cowhiding,  as  merely  a  foretaste  of  what 
awaited  him  if  he  continued  his  depredations.  The  cure 
was  effectual,  and  the  poacher  sought  other  fields  in  which 
to  prosecute  his  calling.  There  was  something  about  Wash- 
ington's demeanor  and  look,  when  excited,  that  would  make 
a  bold  man  hesitate  to  assail  him. 

While  he  was  thus  passing  the  first  year  of  married  life 
in  the  quiet  routine  of  a  planter's  occupations,  the  doom  of 
the  French  empire  on  this  continent  was  fixed.  Although 
at  the  very  time  the  expedition  to  Fort  Du  Quesne  was 
drawing  to  a  successful  close,  Abercrombie  had  been  beaten 
by  Montcalm,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  capture  of 
Louisburg,  defeat  had  attended  the  English  arms  all  along 
the  Canadian  frontier,  the  struggle  still  went  on,  and  all 
eyes  were  turned  northward,  where  the  armies  of  the  two 
greatest  nations  on  the  globe  strove  for  the  possession  of 
unoccupied  solitudes,  and  waters  undisturbed  by  commerce. 

At   length  a  long,  loud  shout  came  rolling   from   the 


94  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Heights  of  Abraham,  announcing  that  the  struggle  was 
over.  The  deaths  of  the  two  heroes,  Montcalm  and 
Wolfe,  were  worthy  of  the  great  event  they  helped  to 
bring  about. 

Washington  retained  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Burgesses 
fifteen  years,  or  until  the  Revolution.  His  life  during  this 
period  differed  very  little  from  that  of  most  Virginia  plant- 
ers around  him.  As  a  member  of  the  assembly  he  spoke 
but  little.  His  motto  was  not  to  speak  except  on  import- 
ant subjects,  or  on  those  which  directly  concerned  his 
constituents,  and  then  calmly,  and  wholly  to  the  point 
of  fact. 

Notwithstanding  the  extensive  business  on  his  hands,  and 
the  many  calls  upon  his  time,  he  was  his  own  book-keeper. 
Exact  in  every  thing,  he  required  those  with  whom  he 
dealt  to  be  the  same.  He  was  compelled  to  import  all  his 
wardrobe,  farming  utensils,  harness,  etc.,  from  England. 
Twice  a  year  he  made  out  a  list  of  the  things  he  wanted 
and  sent  it  to  his  correspondent  in  London.  An  order  on 
his  tailor  illustrates  the  ideas  of  dress  in  those  times.  In 
giving  the  description  of  a  coat  he  had  requested  to  be 
made,  he  said  he  did  not  wish  a  rich  garment,  but  a  plain 
one,  "  with  gold  or  silver  buttons." 

There  is  another  little  anecdote  showing  how  he  always 
adhered  to  facts.  The  church  in  the  parish  of  which  he  was 
vestryman,  having  become  dilapidated,  it  was  resolved  to  pull 
it  down  and  build  a  new  one.  But  a  difference  of  opinion 
arose  respecting  the  spot  where  it  should  be  placed,  the  pre- 
sent site  not  being  central.  Washington,  taking  a  practical 
view  of  the  matter,  wished  it  located  where  it  would  be  most 
convenient  to  the  parishioners.  George  Mason,  his  friend 
and  neighbor,  on  the  other  hand,  was  anxious  to  retain  the 
old  consecrated  spot,  hallowed  by  so  many  sweet  and  sacred 
associations.  After  several  meetings  had  been  held  without 
coming  to  a  decision,  a  final  decisive  one  was  appointed. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  95 

When  the  people  assembled,  Mason,  the  leader  of  the  party 
wishing  to  retain  the  old  site,  arose  and  made  a  long  and 
eloquent  harangue,  pouring  out  rhapsodies  over  the  spot 
made  sacred  by  so  many  joys  and  tears — by  the  worship 
there  rendered  and  the  dead  there  buried,  till  he  almost  con- 
vinced his  audience  that  to  remove  it  would  be  sacrilege. 
It  was  evident  he  had  carried  the  day,  for  Washington  was 
no  orator  like  Brutus  to  destroy  the  effect  of  this  impassioned 
appeal.  But  while  Mason  was  studying  his  eloquent  ha- 
rangue, the  former,  like  an  old  surveyor  as  he  was,  had  been 
cautiously  making  a  map  of  the  whole  parish,  with  all  its 
dwellings,  showing  the  precise  relation  which  the  old  and 
new  site  held  to  them.  Coolly  drawing  this  from  his  pocket, 
at  the  close  of  Mason's  speech,  and  unrolling  it  before  the 
people,  he  bade  them  look  at  the  matter  exactly  as  it  stood, 
and  told  them  it  was  for  them  to  determine  whether  they 
would  be  carried  away  by  an  impulse,  or  act  like  men  of 
sense  and  reason.  This  map  acted  as  a  condenser  to  all  of 
Mason's  vapor — he  was  deserted  in  the  very  moment  of 
victory,  and  retired  discomfited  from  the  field. 

This  clear,  practical  view  and  stubborn  adherence  to  fact, 
was  one  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  Napoleon, 
and  we  are  reminded  of  a  similar  anecdote  of  him.  On  his 
way  to  Egypt,  a  group  of  savans,  that  accompanied  the 
army,  discussed  one  starry  night  on  the  deck  of  the  ship 
the  existence  of  a  God.  It  was  finally  proved  to  a  demon- 
stration that  there  was  none.  The  young  Napoleon  heard 
them  through,  and  then  turning  his  eye  upward  toward  the 
bespangled  sky,  he  waved  his  hand  saying,  "  All  very  well, 
gentlemen,  but  who  made  all  these  ?" 

Peace  had  returned  to  the  country,  and  to  all  human 
appearance  the  future  history  of  Washington  was  to  be  that 
of  a  Virginia  farmer.  But  he  carried  the  same  character  in 
his  social  relations  that  he  had  borne  in  public  life.  The 
soul  of  honor  and  the  incarnation  of  justice,  he  became  the 

6 


96  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

depository  of  sacred  trusts,  and  the  umpire  between  parties 
throughout  the  entire  region.  To  a  friend  he  wrote  that  if 
his  son  wished  to  pass  through  college,  be  could  draw  on 
him  for  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  year 
throughout  his  course.  Deeds  of  kindness  and  acts  of 
benevolence  came  in  between  his  more  important  business 
matters,  binding  his  whole  life  together  with  golden  links 
Among  other  things  in  which  he  became  deeply  interested 
was  the  payment  of  the  soldiers  and  officers  under  his  com- 
mand. He  was  one  of  the  commissioners  to  close  up  for  the 
colony  its  military  account,  and  pushed  forward  the  matter 
so  energetically,  that  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
every  claim  settled ;  and  where  the  original  holder  had 
died,  arranged  it  so  that  the  heirs  would  obtain  the  land. 
He  did  not  overlook  even  Vonbraam,  the  interpreter  who 
had  deceived  him  so  grossly  at  the  Great  Meadows,  and  then 
fled  to  England.  The  man  had  never  been  condemned 
legally,  and  he  therefore  considered  him  entitled  to  his 
share. 

In  October,  1770,  he  once  more  passed  over  the  route 
where  had  transpired  the  most  memorable  events  of  his 
life.  Taking  with  him  his  old  friend  Dr.  Craik,  who  had 
been  with  him  from  the  commencement  of  his  military 
career,  he  set  out  on  horseback  for  the  Ohio,  to  see  the 
western  lands  for  himself,  in  anticipation  of  having  them 
surveyed  and  laid  off  in  tracts  for  the  army.  As  they 
passed  through  the  wilderness,  almost  every  step  recalled 
some  scene  of  interest.  They  paused  by  the  grave  of 
Braddock,  and  mused  together  on  the  Great  Meadows, 
where  Washington  suffered  hi^  first  defeat.  To  him  it  was 
like  living  his  life  over  again. 

In  twelve  days  he  reached  Pfttsburg.  Remaining  here 
three  days,  dining  with  the  officers  of  the  garrison,  and 
holding  a  council  with  some  chiefs  of  the  Six  Nations,  he 
on  the  20th,  with  a  few  companions,  embarked  in  a  large 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  97 

canoe  down  the  Ohio.  They  were  now  beyond  the  settle- 
ments of  the  whites.  An  unbroken  forest  shut  in  the  river, 
whose  bosom,  dotted  with  islands,  was  disturbed  only  by 
the  paddle  of  the  red  man  or  the  plash  of  wild  fowl. 
Night  coming  on  they  hauled  their  boat  ashore,  and  kindling 
a  fire  on  the  banks  lay  down  to  rest.  At  daylight  they 
again  pushed  off.  The  third  day  it  snowed,  and  along  the 
white  banks,  and  through  the  colonnade  of  trees  the  soli- 
tary boat  shot  downward — now  dancing  over  the  rifts,  and 
again  suddenly  brought  up  on  a  shoal,  threatening  to  upset 
all  in  the  stream.  Toward  evening  they  saw  smoke  rising 
from  amid  the  trees  below  them,  and  on  turning  a  bend  of 
the  river  suddenly  came  upon  an  Indian  village  of  twenty 
cabins.  Running  the  boat  ashore,  they  encamped  here  for 
the  night,  and  were  entertained  hospitably  by  the  natives. 
Hearing  that  two  traders  had  been  killed  a  little  farther 
on,  they  hesitated  about  proceeding,  but  at  length  con- 
cluded, to  venture  forward,  and  kept  down  the  river,  stop- 
ping occasionally  to  allow  Washington  to  examine  the  lands 
along  the  creeks  and  streams  that  put  into  the  Ohio.  The 
call  of  the  wild  turkey  and  the  scream  of  the  water-fowl 
were  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  soli- 
tude. They  scared  the  wild  deer  quenching  his  noonday 
thirst  with  the  crack  of  their  rifles,  and  roused  the  beast  of 
prey  from  his  lair,  in  solitudes  hitherto  unvisited  by  the 
white  man. 

On  the  28th  they  came  upon  the  Indian  chief  Kiashuta, 
with  his  hunting-party,  by  whom  they  were  kindly  received, 
and  detained  till  nine  o'clock  next  morning.  Cold  autumn 
rains  and  snow  drenched  them  by  day  and  chilled  them  at 
night,  but  Washington  continued  his  investigations,  now 
piercing  several  miles  inland,  and  again  accompanying  the 
boat  on  foot  along  the  bank.  At  length  they  reached  the 
Great  Kanhawa,  the  end  of  their  journey.  He  had  now 
gone  two  hundred  and  sixty-five  miles  from  Pittsburg, 


98  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

through  a  country  claimed  by  the  Indians,  and  where  the 
cabin  of  the  white  man  had  never  been  reared.  Passing 
up  this  river  to  observe  the  land  they  proceeded  ten  miles 
and  encamped.  Next  morning  they  pushed  on  four  miles 
farther,  and  then  encamped  to  go  hunting.  The  forest 
soon  rung  with  the  report  of  their  pieces,  and  before  night 
the  party  had  brought  in  five  buffaloes  and  three  deer. 
The  next  day  they  set  out  on  their  return.  Strange  wild 
fowl,  with  a  cry  he  had  never  heard  before,  huge  trees, 
with  trunks  forty-five  feet  in  circumference,  together  with 
every  picturesque  object  of  nature,  arrested  Washington's 
attention,  as  well  as  the  rich  bottoms  which  were  destined 
soon  to  be  crowded  with  an  enterprising  people. 

He  was  absent  nine  weeks  in  all,  not  reaching  Mount 
Vernon  till  the  first  of  December.  This  was  his  fifth  trip 
to  the  Ohio,  and  served  to  keep  up  his  familiarity  with 
the  fatigues  of  a  camp  life  that  he  was  fast  forgetting  in  the 
luxuries  of  home.  All  this  time  he  was  not  an  indifferent 
spectator  of  the  strife  between  the  colonies  and  the  mother 
country  respecting  their  mutual  rights,  but  sympathized 
deeply  with  the  former. 

How  strangely  Providence  shaped  the  life  of  this  man, 
to  fit  him  for  the  high  destiny  that  awaited  him.  Five 
years  of  better  training  could  not  have  been  devised.  Stark 
and  Putnam  and  others,  had  an  experience  fitting  them 
only  for  partisan  warfare,  while  such  generals  as  Artemus 
Ward  were  not  inured  to  the  hardships  and  trials  through 
which  Washington  had  triumphantly  passed.  Besides,  as 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Virginia  forces,  he  was  obliged 
to  bear  with  undisciplined  militia  and  a  contradictory  and 
officious  governor — left  to  carry  on  a  campaign  without 
supplies — keep  together  half- starved  and  half-clothed 
troops — compelled  to  be  patient  under  abuse  and  neglect — 
to  have  courage  when  others  desponded,  and  win  universal 
confidence  by  his  integrity  and  justice.  In  short  he  had 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  99 

been  tried  beforehand  in  every  difficulty  and  temptation 
that  was  to  beset  or  befall  him  as  the  leader  of  a  free  peo- 
ple. His  five  years  as  colonel  was  an  epitome  of  the  seven 
years  he  spent  at  the  head  of  the  national  army.  God 
had  proved  him,  and  said  clearly  by  his  providence,  "  Thou 
hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things;  I  will  make  thee 
ruler  over  many  things." 


100  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Character  of  the  Colonists — First  Attempt  to  Tax  the  Provinces — Its  Reception  by 
the  People — Taxation  discussed  in  the  British  Parliament — Speech  of  Col. 
Barre — Attitude  of  Virginia — Speech  of  Patrick  Henry — South  Carolina  and 
Gadsden— Attacks  on  Stamp-Master  J.  Ingersoll — First  Congress  at  New  York — • 
The  Stamp  Act  Repealed— Excitement  and  Joy  of  the  Colonists — Washington's 
Views  of  it — Duties  on  Tea,  Paper,  etc. — Tea  thrown  overboard  in  Boston  Har- 
bor— Port  Bill — Virginia  Assembly  and  conduct  of  Washington — Fast  Day — 
Fairfax  Resolutions — Washington's  Letter  to  Mr.  Bryan  Fairfax — He  is  elected 
a  Delegate  to  the  First  General  Congress — Action  of  Congress — Prayer  by 
Duche — Washington's  standing  in  Congress — Lexington  and  Concord — Excite- 
ment of  the  People — Stockbridge — The  Second  Congress — Washington  Chair- 
man of  every  Committee — Appointed  Commander-in-Chief — Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill — Journey  of  Washington  to  Cambridge — Takes  command  of  the  Army — 
Its  character — Appearance  of  the  Encampment — Washington's  first  order — 
Organization  of  the  Army — Difficulties  that  beset  him — Forced  to  act  contrary 
to  his  wishes. 

DURING  the  long  interval  that  Washington  passed  on  his 
plantation  engaged  in  the  quiet  routine  of  his  agricultural 
duties  and  pleasures,  the  colonies  were  shaken  from  limit 
to  limit  with  the  fierce  discussion  of  the  doctrine  of  civil 
rights. 

In  New  England,  the  inhabitants,  coming  directly  from 
the  old  Puritan  stock,  were  naturally  jealous  of  those  rights 
for  which  they  had  abandoned  their  native  land,  while  both 
they  arid  the  other  colonists  could  not  but  draw  in  freedom 
with  every  breath  in  the  untrammeled  life  of  the  wilder- 
ness. Besides,  cultivators  of  the  soil  are  always  character- 
ized by  independence.  The  fluctuations  of  trade,  the 
stoppage  of  commerce,  and  the  derangement  of  currency 
may  prevent  their  becoming  rich,  but  these  cannot  prevent 
the  earth  from  yielding  her  fruits,  so  that  the  disasters  of 
war  do  not  reach  to  the  means  of  livelihood,  and  hence  do 
not  outweigh  all  other  considerations.  Added  to  all  this,  a 
boundless  wilderness  thronged  with  savages  would  naturally 
attract  to  it  only  the  more  hardy,  enterprising,  self-reliant, 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  101 

and  fearless  class  of  men,  restless  under  restraint  and  prompt 
and  resolute  in  the  assertion  of  their  rights. 

As  the  colonies  increased  in  strength  and  wealth  England 
judiciously  avoided  intermeddling  with  their  internal  regu- 
lations, and  the  Assemblies  of  the  different  provinces  were 
really  more  independent  than  the  Parliament  of  England. 
Such  a  stock,  so  educated  by  external  circumstances,  and 
strengthened  in  their  views  by  long  continued  concessions 
on  the  part  of  the  mother  country,  would  naturally  rebel 
against  the  first  effort  to  reduce  them  to  bondage.  England, 
however,  was  not  aware  to  what  depth  the  sentiment  of 
liberty  had  struck,  nor  of  the  sternness  and  courage  with 
which  the  colonists  would  resist  the  first  encroachment  on 
their  rights.  Regarding  the  French  war  as  rather  the 
quarrel  of  the  colonies  than  her  own,  she  resolved  they 
should  help  sustain  the  government  which  had  protected 
them  not  only  from  the  rapacity  of  the  French,  but  from 
the  cruelties  of  the  savages.  But  at  the  first  suggestion  of 
the  British  ministry  that  this  should  be  done  by  taxation, 
the  colonists  were  thrown  into  a  high  state  of  excitement, 
and  urgent  remonstrances  were  made  to  prevent  a  step  so 
fatal  to  their  liberties. 

[1763.]  The  proposition  to  lay  a  stamp-tax  was  first 
made  under  Egremont's  administration,  but  a  change  in  the 
cabinet  prevented  it  from  being  immediately  carried  out. 
An  excise,  land-tax,  and  all  other  methods  for  raising  a 
revenue  seemed  impracticable.  But  first  came  the  Naviga- 
tion Act,  forbidding  America  to  trade  with  foreign  nations 
and  compelling  her  to  buy  only  of  England.  All  other 
trade  was  declared  contraband,  and  custom-house  officers 
were  sent  over,  and  national  vessels  ordered  to  cruise  along 
our  coasts  to  make  seizure  of  all  goods  that  had  not  come 
through  English  ports.  This  aroused  .A  storm  of  indigna- 
tion, and  the  colonists,  finding  no  other  mode  of  revenge, 
began  to  do  without  English  manufactures.  The  loom  and 


102  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  spinning-wheel  were  soon  heard  in  every  part  of  the 
land.  Boston  took  the  lead,  the  inhabitants  refusing  even 
to  wear  gloves  at  funerals.  Other  towns  followed  the 
example,  and  English  manufactures  instead  of  finding  a 
freer  market  than  before  met  a  more  stringent  one.  This, 
with  other  burdens  imposed  on  commerce,  agitated  deeply 
the  public  mind.  But  vexatious  and  unjust  as  this  policy 
was,  the  colonists  felt  that  Parliament  had  a  right  to  regu- 
late commerce,  and  no  serious  resistance  was  made ;  but 
when  the  next  spring  a  resolution  passed  the  House  of 
Commons  [March  10th  1764]  to  lay  a  stamp-tax,  the  indig- 
nation broke  over  all  bounds.  What,  taxation  without 
representation  ?  this  was  not  only  tyranny  to  the  colonists 
but  treason  to  the  British  constitution.  Franklin,  who  was 
in  London,  wrote  home  to  Thompson,  "  The  sun  of  liberty 
is  set,  the  Americans  must  light  the  lamp  of  industry  and 
economy."  "  Be  assured,"  said  Thompson  in  reply,  "  we 
shall  light  torches  of  another  sort." 

The  resolution  not  being  acted  on  this  year  the  inhabi- 
tants had  time  to  consider  it.  The  universal  rage  however 
with  which  it  was  received,  breaking  down  old  rivalries, 
healing  bitter  feuds,  and  harmonizing  elements  hitherto  at 
war,  showed  clearly  what  the  inevitable  result  would  be  of 
pressing  the  measure  upon  them.  It  was  like  the  "  Truce 
of  God,"  which  banded  in  brotherly  love  kings  and  princes 
who  had  long  been  at  war,  and  reconciled  ancient  foes  to 
hurl  them  like  a  single  man  against  the  infidel.  This 
odious  tax  was  the  topic  of  common  conversation,  clubs 
were  formed  to  discuss  it,  and  the  assemblies  of  the  different 
states  dispatched  agents  to  England  with  their  firm  remon- 
strances against  it. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  indications  of  an  approaching 
storm,  the  English  government  fully  believed  that  the  colo- 
nies were  too  feeble  and  timid  to  offer  any  effectual  resistance, 
and  the  next  year  [March  Sth,  1TG5]  the  stamp-tax  became 


Chnirin?  Colonel  Wood  as  pr-vjy  for  Wasb  inctor. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  105 

a  law.  Its  discussion  in  the  House  of  Commons  brought 
the  administration  and  its  enemies  into  fierce  and  terrible 
collision.  During  it,  Colonel  Barre,  who  had  stood  side  by 
side  with  General  Wolf  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  delivered 
that  short,  unpremeditated  and  thrilling  speech,  in  reply  to 
Charles  Townsend's  interrogation,  "  And  will  these  Ameri- 
can children,  planted  by  our  care,  nourished  up  by  our 
indulgences  to  a  degree  of  strength  and  opulence,  and  pro- 
tected by  our  arms,  grudge  to  contribute  their  mite  to 
relieve  us  from  the  heavy  burden  under  which  we  lie  ?" 
Springing  to  his  feet,  the  fiery  soldier  replied,  "  They 
planted  by  your  care  !  No,  your  oppressions  planted  them  in 

America They  nourished  by  your  indulgence  !    They 

grew  by  your  neglect  of  them.     As  soon  as  you  began  to 
care  about  them,  that  care  was  exercised  in  sending  persons 
to  rule  them  in  one  department  and  another,  who  were  per- 
haps  the   deputies   of  deputies  to  some  members  of  the 
House,  sent  to  spy  out  their  liberties,  to  misrepresent  their 
actions,  and  to  prey  upon  them,  whose  behavior  on  many 
occasions  has  caused  the  blood  of  these  sons  of  liberty  to 
recoil  within  them.  .....  They  protected  by  your  arms! 

They  have  nobly  taken  up  arms  in  your  defense,  have 
exerted  a  valor  amidst  their  constant  and  laborious  industry, 
for  the  defense  of  a  country  whose  frontier  was  drenched  in 
blood,  while  its  interior  parts  yielded  all  its  little  earnings 
to  your  emolument." 

With  a  warning  to  the  government  to  desist  from  its 
rash  and  perilous  course,  he  sat-  down.  A  breathless 
silence  followed  this  sudden  and  impassioned  address, 
bursting  as  it  did  from  a  soul  on  fire.  J.  Ingersoll,  of  Con- 
necticut, sat  in  the  gallery  and  listened  to  it.  By  the  next 
packet  he  dispatched  it  to  the  colonies.  "Sons  of  Liberty!" 
was  the  baptismal  name  pronounced  in  the  British  Parlia- 
ment. "  Sons  of  Liberty"  echoed  the  men  of  Boston,  and 
organized  into  a  band  under  that  name.  A  large  tree  stood 


106  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

on  the  corner  of  Washington  and  Essex  streets,  which  they 
christened  "  Liberty  Tree,"  and  beneath  its  branches  assem 
bled  from  time  to  time  to  deliberate  on  the  momentous 
question  of  taxation. 

Southward  swept  the  flame  of  rebellion.  Virginia,  whose 
House  of  Burgesses  had  ever  been  distinguished  for  stubborn 
resistance  to  every  assumption  of  authority  by  the  governor, 
"  rang  the  alarum  bell,"  and  sent  her  thrilling  accents  of 
defiance  on.  The  assembly  was  in  session  when  the  news 
arrived,  and  though  the  denunciations  were  loud  and  deep, 
no  one  seemed  inclined  to  take  the  lead  in  the  House  till 
Patrick  Henry,  who  had  been  a  member  but  a  few  days, 
snatching  a  fly-leaf  from  old  Coke  upon  Lyttleton,  wrote 
five  daring  resolutions  upon  it,  and  rising  read  them  to  the 
utter  astonishment  of  all.  He  declared  that  the  colonies 
alone  had  power  to  levy  taxes,  and  defended  his  resolutions 
with  an  eloquence  and  boldness  that  electrified  the  House. 
Kindling  on  the  glorious  theme  of  Human  Liberty,  he 
poured  forth  with  impassioned  fervor  and  vehement  energy 
those  noble  sentiments  which  soon  found  an  echo  in  every 
part  of  the  land.  Forgetting  for  a  moment  every  thing  but 
the  great  subject  which  engrossed  his  soul,  he  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  Csesar  had  his  Brutus — Charles  the  First  his 
Cromwell,  and  George  the  Third — "  "Treason!"  shouted 
the  defaulting  Speaker  Robinson.  "Treason?  Treason!" 
rang  through  the  House.  Pausing  till  the  echo  of  the 
damning  accusation  had  died  away,  he  turned  his  flashing 
eye  full  on  the  speaker  and  shouted,  "  may  pro/if  by  their 
example!  If  this  be  treason,  make  the  most  of  it!"  A  fierce 
and  exciting  debate  followed,  but  it  was  only  like  the  occa- 
sional wind  gusts  heard  in  the  pauses  of  the  thunder. 
Henry's  eloquence  rolled  over  and  drowned  every  thing 
else.  His  resolutions  were  carried. 

Washington  sat  there  a  witness  of  the  scene,  and  gazed, 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  107 

one  may  well  imagine  with  what  feelings,  on  the  inspired 
countenance  of  the  young  and  fearless  orator. 

The  flame  spread  on  every  side.  British  ministers  were 
hung  in  effigy  on  Liberty  Tree.  Associations  were  formed 
to  reject  all  British  manufactures.  People  in  Philadelphia 
refused  to  eat  mutton,  that  they  might  have  more  wool  for 
domestic  use.  Ladies  of  the  first  rank  dressed  in  home- 
spun. The  stern  Puritan  clergy  cried  "  To  your  tents,  oh 
Israel !"  When  the  churchmen  preached  loyalty  to  the 
Lord's  anointed,  "  The  People,"  retorted  William  Livings- 
ton, "are  the  Lord's  anointed."  The  "Stamp  Act"  was 
hawked  about  the  streets  of  New  York,  under  the  title  of 
"  Folly  of  England  and  Ruin  of  America." 

South  Carolina  heard  the  bugle-blast  of  Virginia  and 
Massachusetts,  and  snatching  up  the  trumpet,  through  her 
Gadsden,  blew  a  call  so  clear,  loud  and  glorious,  that  the 
heart  of  the  nation  leaped  up  at  the  sound.  With  the 
lofty,  fearless  and  eloquent  Gadsden  at  the  South,  the  fiery 
patriot  Patrick  Henry  in  Virginia,  and  the  sanest  madman 
that  ever  became  an  Oracle  of  the  Gods,  Otis  of  Boston,  at 
the  North,  there  was  no  danger  of  lack  of  energy  or 
courage.  "  Death  to  the  man  who  offers  a  piece  of  stamped 
paper  to  sell!"  shouted  the  people  of  Boston.  Bonfires, 
harangues,  threats,  riots  and  violence,  filled  the  officers  of 
government  with  alarm.  Hutchinson  of  Connecticut  fled 
to  his  castle.  The  stamp-officer  of  Rhode  Island,  trembling 
for  his  life,  resigned  at  the  clamors  of  the  mob.  The  house 
of  the  stamp-master  of  Annapolis  was  leveled  to  the  ground 
by  the  infuriated  multitude.  Ingersoll,  stamp-master  of 
Connecticut,  fled  in  terror  from  New  Haven  with  the  gover- 
nor. In  his  flight  he  met  first  two,  then  five,  and  a  little 
after  thirty,  and  finally  five  hundred  men  on  horseback, 
armed  with  clubs  cut  from  the  forest  and  stripped  of  their 
bark.  Three  bugles  heralded  their  approach,  and  opening 
to  the  right  and  left  they  received  into  their  midst  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

trembling  stamp-officer.  Halting  in  the  main  street  of 
Wethersfield,  they  bade  him  resign.  Ingersoll,  having 
retired  to  a  house,  hesitated  and  delayed.  The  people  grew 
more  and  more  indignant,  and  at  length  their  swelling  shout 
for  vengeance  so  alarmed  him  that  he  obeyed,  saying, 
"  After  all,  it  is  not  worth  dying  for." 

"  Swear  to  the  writing,"  cried  the  mob.  Ingersoll 
refused.  "  Then  shout  for  Liberty  and  Property  three 
times,"  they  cried.  "  Liberty  and  Property !"  shouted  the 
crest-fallen  stamp-master.  Then  three  loud  huzzas  rent  the 
air.  A  thousand  men  had  now  assembled,  each  with  his 
white  cudgel,  and  gathering  round  Ingersoll,  escorted  him 
with  the  sound  of  bugles  to  Hartford,  and  there,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  legislature,  made  him  read  his  resignation. 
In  his  journey  thither  he  rode  a  white  horse,  and  some  one 
asking  him  what  he  thought  of  the  strange  cavalcade  ac- 
companying him,  he  replied  that  he  now  had  a  clearer 
idea,  than  ever  before,  of  that  passage  in  the  Revelations 
which  describes  Death  on  the  pale  horse  and  hell  following  him. 
Thus  officer  after  officer  was  compelled  to  resign,  until  but 
one,  Hughes,  the  Quaker  of  Philadelphia,  remained.  Toss- 
ing on  his  bed  of  sickness,  he  at  last  heard  the  muffled 
drums  beating  their  mournful  throbs,  and  the  deep  toll  of 
the  bell  of  the  State  House  sending  its  dull  echoes  over  the 
city,  followed  by  the  still  more  alarming  sound,  the  muffled 
tread  of  excited  men  on  their  march  to  his  dwelling,  and 
trembling  for  his  life,  reluctantly  yielded  and  promised  to 
resign. 

In  the  midst  of  this  excitement,  the  First  Congress  of  the 
colonies  met  at  New  York  [Oct.  7th,  1765,]  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  their  liberty.  The  excitement  was  not  con- 
fined to  this  country,  but  spread  to  England,  and  when  in 
the  following  winter  Parliament  assembled,  the  question  of 
the  Colonies  absorbed  all  others.  A  noble  attempt  was 
made  to  repeal  the  Stamp  Act,  and  during  the  discussion 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  109 

Pitt  uttered  those  memorable  words  which  so  startled  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  thrilled  every  heart  on  this  conti- 
nent— "  I  rejoice  that  America  has  resisted!" 

The  Stamp  Act  was  reaffirmed.  It  however  again  came 
up,  on  a  motion  to  repeal  it,  and  Franklin  was  summoned 
to  the  bar  of  the  House,  to  give  information  respecting  the 
state  of  the  colonies,  and  of  their  ability  and  willingness  to 
pay  the  stamp-duty.  After  a  long  examination  on  various 
points,  Grenville  asked  him  if  he  thought  the  people  would 
pay  the  stamp  duty  if  modified.  "  No,  never,"  he  replied — 
"  they  will  never  submit  to  it." 

When  the  final  vote  on  the  repeal  was  to  be  taken,  the 
lobbies  were  crowded  with  spectators,  waiting  with  breath- 
less interest  to  hear  the  decision.  At  length  when,  toward 
morning,  the  resolution  was  carried,  loud  shouts  made  the 
roof  of  St.  Stephen's  ring.  Around  Conway,  who  had 
fought  nobly  for  the  principles  of  right  from  first  to  last, 
the  multitude  gathered  with  tears  of  gratitude,  while  they 
opened  right  and  left  to  let  the  chair  of  the  crippled  Pitt 
pass,  and  reverently  uncovered  their  heads,  many  attending 
him  even  to  his  door. 

When  the  news  reached  America,  the  county  was 
thrown  into  a  delirium  of  excitement.  All  winter  long 
there  had  been  meetings  of  excited  men,  and  a  black  and 
threatening  cloud  seemed  settling  on  the  colonies.  The 
repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  was  like  the  sudden  bursting  forth 
of  the  sun  in  the  midst  of  darkness.  The  bell  nearest 
Liberty  Tree  in  Boston,  was  set  ringing.  From  the  tall 
steeple  drooped  countless  gay  banners,  and  from  every  win- 
dow and  house-top  flaunted  flags  and  streamers,  making  the 
bright  May  morning  look  still  brighter  and  promise  a  far 
more  glorious  summer  than  that  of  fruits  and  flowers.  The 
prison-doors  were  thrown  open,  and  every  poor  debtor  was 
allowed  to  go  forth  once  more  a  free  man,  and  mingle  in 
the  general  joy.  In  the  evening  the  town  was  one  blaze 


110  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

of  fire.  Liberty  Tree  bent  under  the  weight  of  lanterns  and 
illuminated  figures  of  the  champions  of  repeal.  Bonfires 
were  kindled,  fire-works  set  off,  while  the  town  shook  to  the 
shouts  of  the  multitude  and  the  roar  of  cannon.  South- 
ward swept  the  general  exultation,  till  the  land  echoed  with 
the  clamor  of  bells  and  the  acclamations  of  men. 

This  joy,  however,  was  soon  damped  by  the  reception  of 
the  Military  Act  quartering  soldiers  in  Boston.  Besides,  the 
repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  was  now  understood  not  to  be  a 
concession  of  principle  on  the  part  of  Great  Britain,  or  even 
a  permanent  act  of  expediency.  The  imposition,  not  long 
after,  of  duties  on  tea,  paper,  glass,  and  painters'  colors,  was 
the  same  thing  under  a  different  form,  and  aroused  the 
same  spirit  of  resistance  with  which  the  Stamp  Act  had 
been  met. 

The  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  was  hailed  by  Washington 
with  delight.  He  had  declared  it  a  "  direful  attack  on  the 
liberties  of  the  colonists."  So  the  imposition  of  new  duties 
filled  him  with  "  indignation."  From  Boston  to  Georgia 
the  people  were  again  thoroughly  aroused,  and  catching  the 
notes  of  preparation  which  now  began  to  be  seriously 
sounded,  he  said,  "  That  no  man  should  scruple  or  hesitate 
to  take  up  arms  in  defense  of  so  valuable  a  blessing  (as 
freedom)  is  clearly  my  opinion,"  though  it  should  be  the 
last  resort.  The  associations  formed  every  where  to  perse- 
cute English  manufacturers  and  trade,  met  his  approval. 
Mason  drew  up  an  agreement  for  the  House  of  Burgesses, 
and  Washington  presented  it,  in  which  every  signer  pro- 
mised not  to  buy  or  use  the  interdicted  articles.  They  put 
their  names  to  it  in  a  body,  and  Washington  ever  after 
when  he  made  out  orders  for  England,  forbade  his  corre- 
spondent to  send  any  of  those  included  in  the  agreement. 

Thus  the  affairs  of  the  colony,  with  now  and  then  a  lull 
in  the  excitement,  were  pushed  toward  the  crisis  of  open 
rebellion.  England,  under  the  pressure,  finally  took  off  all 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  Ill 

duties  except  the  one  on  tea.  The  colonists  then  refused 
to  drirjk  tea,  and  it  accumulated  in  the  English  warehouses. 
No  man  was  found  bold  enough  to  be  its  consignee  on  these 
shores.  The  East  India  Company  endeavored  to  get  a 
cargo  into  Boston  harbor,  but  the  citizens  in  the  garb  of 
Indians  threw  it  overboard.  This  act  of  violence  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  famous  Port  Bill,  by  which  Boston  was  to  be 
shut  up,  and.  Salem  used  as  the  port  of  the  colony.  To 
carry  out  this  and  reduce  the  rebellious  spirit  of  the  colo- 
nists, troops  were  ordered  over  to  be  quartered  on  the 
people. 

When  the  Assembly  of  Virginia  met,  one  of  their  first 
acts  was  to  pass  resolutions  of  sympathy  for  Boston,  and 
appoint  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  Lord  Dunmore,  the 
governor,  irritated  at  this  act  of  disloyalty,  dissolved  the 
Assembly.  The  members  immediately  reassembled,  at  a 
tavern,  and,  among  other  acts,  recommended  the  call  of  a 
general  congress,  to  deliberate  on  the  course  to  be  pursued. 
They  then  dispersed  with  the  exception  of  twenty-five,  of 
whom  Washington  was  one.  These  remained  to  keep  the 
fast  which  had  been  appointed,  Washington  inscribed  in 
his  diary,  "  I  went  to  church,  and.  fasted  all  day\" 

He,  with  the  other  twenty- four,  having  in  the  meantime 
received  a  message  from  the  Bostonians  requesting  the  colo- 
nies to  join  them  in  a  non-importation  act,  issued  a  call  for 
another  convention  of  the  delegates.  During  the  interval 
the  separate  counties  held  meetings  to  determine  on  the 
instructions  that  should  be  given  their  representatives  in 
this  convention.  In  Fairfax  county  Washington  was  elected 
chairman  of  the  meetings  in  which  the  famous  Fairfax 
resolutions  were  adopted.  Those  resolves  show  the  firm 
determination  of  Washington  to  resist  the  encroachments 
of  the  mother  country.  Mr.  Bryan  Fairfax  having  with- 
drawn from  the  meetings  on  account  of  the  bold  and  de- 
cided ground  taken,  Washington  addressed  him  a  long  letter 


112  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

of  explanation.  After  showing  the  conduct  of  Parliament 
toward  the  colonies,  and  proving  clearly  its  designs,  he 
asks,  "What  hope  have  we  then  from  petitioning,  when  they 
tell  us  that  now  or  never  is  the  time  to  fix  the  matter? 
Shall  we  after  this  whine  and  cry  for  relief,  when  we  have 
already  tried  it  in  vain  ?  Or  shall  we  supinely  sit  and  see 
one  province  after  another  fall  a  sacrifice  to  despotism  ?" 
These  sentences  have  the  ring  of  the  true  metal,  and  seem 
almost  to  have  been  embodied  in  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. He  was  opposed  to  addressing  the  throne  fur- 
ther. "  There  is  no  relief  for  us  (said  he)  but  in  their  dis- 
tress" (referring  to  the  non-importation  scheme,)  "  and  I 
think,  at  least  I  hope,  there  is  public  virtue  enough  left 
among  us  to  deny  ourselves  every  thing  but  the  bare  neces- 
saries of  life  to  -accomplish  this  end."  Far-seeing  and 
practical,  he  no  longer  puts  faith  in  eloquent  appeals  and 
addresses.  With  the  same  stubborn  adherence  to  facts 
which  had  always  characterized  him,  he  says,  "  Starvation 
is  the  remedy !" 

The  convention  met  on  the  1st  of  August,  and  adopted, 
with  very  little  change,  the  Fairfax  resolutions — "  No  more 
slaves,  British  goods,  or  tea,"  said  they,  "  shall  with  our 
sanction  enter  the  colony." 

In  answer  to  the  call  for  a  general  congress  to  meet  at 
Philadelphia  on  the  5th  of  September,  the  convention  ap- 
pointed seven  delegates,  one  of  whom  was  Washington.* 

The  first  great  united  step  was  now  to  be  taken,  and 
every  e}'e  was  turned  toward  that  assembly.  Lee  and 
Henry  stopped  on  their  way  for  Washington,  and  the  three 
rode  on  together  to  Philadelphia.  Washington,  with  his 
stately  form  and  calm,  self-possessed  mind ;  Henry  with  his 
fervid  zeal  and  boiling  courage,  and  Lee  with  his  rich  and 
flowing  language,  formed  an  interesting  trio,  and  grand  and 

*  The  others  were  Peyton  Randolph,  Richard  Henry  Lee,  Patrick  Henry,  Richard 
Blond,  Benjamin  Harrison  and  Edmund  Ptndleton. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  113 

glorious  must  have  been  the  words  spoken  as  they  passed 
through  the  thriving  settlements  on  whose  doom  they  were 
about  to  pronounce. 

Congress  met,  but  as  the  debates  were  never  published, 
there  is  no  record  left  of  the  part  taken  in  them  by  Wash- 
ington. Dickinson  drafted  a  petition  to  the  king  and  to  the 
people  of  Quebec;  Jay  an  appeal  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Great  Britain ;  Lee  a  third  to  the  Colonies ;  and  Congress 
adjourned  to  wait  the  response  to  all  these  before  taking  the 
final  step.  The  feelings,  however,  which  Washington  car- 
ried into  Congress  and  brought  out  with  him,  may  be 
gathered  from  his  reply  to  a  letter  written  him  by  Captain 
Mackenzie,  then  in  Boston.  Speaking  of  the  direful  issue 
to  which  things  were  tending,  he  said,  "  give  me  leave  to 
add,  as  my  opinion,  that  more  blood  will  be  spilled  on  this 
occasion,  if  the  ministry  are  determined  to  push  matters  to 
extremity,  than  history  has  ever  yet  furnished  instances  of 
in  the  annals  of  North  America."  A  prediction  worth 
considering,  and  which  shows  that  he  who  uttered  it  had 
counted  the  cost,  settled  his  purpose,  and  stood  prepared  to 
move  into  that  scene  of  blood  and  carnage,  whether  it  came 
sooner  or  later,  a  strong  defender  of  the  right. 

An  incident  occurred  at  the  opening  of  this  Congress, 
to  which  after  circumstances  gave  a  peculiar  significance. 
It  was  proposed  to  call  in  a  clergyman  to  invoke  the 
aid  of  the  Divine  Being,  and  Mr.  Duche  was  sent  for. 
Among  other  portions  of  the  exercises,  he  read  a  part  of 
the  35th  Psalm.  A  rumor  had  reached  Philadelphia  the 
morning  previous,  that  Boston  had  been  cannonaded  by  the 
British,  and  every  heart  was  filled  with  anxious  forebodings. 
The  members  stood  during  prayers,  all  except  Washington. 
He  alone  knelt — thus  by  mere  accident  separating  himself 
as  it  were  from  the  rest,  by  an  act  indicating  that  he  more 
than  they  all  needed  to  bow  in  the  dust  and  plead  for 
help  from  Heaven.  As  he  knelt  down — the  proudest  form 

7 


114  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

there — it  seemed  as  if  God  had  singled  him  out  to  be  the 
Joshua  of  the  hosts  of  Freedom.  The  house  was  still  as 
the  grave  as  the  earnest  accents  of  the  clergyman  fell  on 
nis  ear. 

"  Plead  my  cause,  0  Lord,  with  them  that  strive  with  me : 
fight  against  them  that  fight  against  me.  Take  hold  of  shield 
and  buckler  and  stand  up  for  mine  help.  Draw  out  also  the 
spear  and  stop  the  way  against  them  that  persecute  me:  say  unto 
my  soul  I  am  thy  salvation." 

The  reading  of  this  Psalm  was  wholly  unpremeditated,  it 
being  a  part  of  the  regular  service  of  the  day.  hence  it 
seemed  almost  like  the  voice  of  God  speaking  directly  to 
them.  After  it  was  finished  Mr.  Duche,  overwhelmed  with 
the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  broke  out  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  all  in  an  extemporaneous  prayer,  beseeching  God 
to  save  the  land  from  the  evils  that  overhung  it. 

Congress  adjourned  to  wait  the  effect  of  their  several  ap- 
peals, and  Washington  returned  to  his  farm.  The  impres- 
sion he  had  made  on  that  assemblage  of  great  men  may  be 
gathered  from  a  remark  of  Patrick  Henry.  When  asked 
on  his  return  whom  he  thought  the  greatest  man  in  Con- 
gress, replied — "  If  you  speak  of  eloquence,  Mr.  Rutledge 
of  South  Carolina  is  unquestionably  the  greatest  orator ;  but 
if  you  speak  of  solid  information  and  sound  judgment, 
Colonel  Washington  is  unquestionably  the  greatest  man  on 
that  floor."  With  such  a  reputation  one  can  imagine  what 
profound  silence  fell  on  the  House  when  he  rose  to  speak, 
and  what  earnest,  respectful  attention  was  given  to  the 
opinions  he  uttered. 

In  the  meantime  independent  companies  were  formed  in 
various  parts  of  Virginia,  and  Washington  was  solicited  to 
take  command  of  them  as  field-officer.  He  accepted,  and 
meeting  them  at  the  various  places  of  rendezvous,  reviewed 
the  troops  and  instructed  the  officers. 

While  affairs  maintained  this  semi-tranquil  state  in  Vir- 


-^ 

:"  ^ 
- 


• 

<-!       '  -,•*.  .-J-     *      «,  •• 


Wtcldin;;. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  117 

ginia,  events  around  Boston  were  crowding  to  a  crisis. 
Collisions  had  taken  place  between  the  people  and  military — 
blood  had  been  shed,  and  the  cpy  for  vengeance  gone  over 
the  land.  The  inhabitants  passed  the  soldiers  with  a  scowl 
and  half-muttered  curses,  and  it  was  equally  apparent  to 
General  Gage,  the  British  commander,  and  to  Hancock, 
Adams,  Otis,  Ward  and  other  patriotic  leaders,  that  every 
thing  was  tending  to  open  war.  A  provincial  Congress 
was  formed,  an  army  of  minute-men  raised,  and  the  sup- 
plies of  the  British  troops  cut  off.  Gage,  alarmed  at  the 
aspect  of  affairs,  began  to  fortify  the  Neck,  and  send  off 
detachments  to  seize  gunpowder  and  cannon  in  the  hands  of 
the  rebels.  On  the  18th  of  April,  Major  Pitcairn  was  de- 
spatched with  six  companies  to  seize  some  cannon  and 
stores  at  Concord.  In  dead  silence,  by  the  dim  moonlight, 
Pitcairn,  supposing  his  movements  were  unknown,  passed 
quietly  out  of  Boston  and  pushed  on  towards  Lexington. 
Sat  news  of  his  advance  had  preceded  him,  and  towards 
daylight,  as  he  approached  Lexington,  his  ears  were  stunned 
by  the  loud  ringing  of  bells,  the  roll  of  drums,  and  signal- 
guns  of  the  Americans.  Dimly  looming  through  the  gray 
mist  of  morning  the  scarlet  uniforms  appeared  pressing  in 
a  compact  mass  toward  the  village  green,  on  which  a  hun- 
dred militia  were  drawn  up  in  confusion.  Halting  in  front, 
the  troops  cooly  loaded  their  pieces.  Pitcairn  then  galloped 
forward  and  exclaimed — "  Disperse,  you  villains — throw 
down  your  arms  and  disperse !"  The  summons  not  being 
immediately  obeyed,  he  shouted  "  Fire !"  and  the  signal- 
gun  of  American  independence  was  fired,  and  the  knell  of 
British  empire  on  this  continent  sounded.  Eight  patriots, 
the  first  holocaust  to  Freedom,  were  slain,  when  the  rest 
dispersed,  and  the  troops  pressed  forward  to  Concord,  six 
miles  distant.  Destroying  what  stores  and  arms  they  could 
lay  hands  on  there,  they  were  about  to  retire,  when  the 
brave  Hosmer  led  four  hundred  militia  to  the  attack.  The 


118  LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON. 

firing  had  attracted  the  surrounding  farmers,  and  they  now 
came  pouring  in  from  every  quarter.  The  British,  alarmed 
at  this  sudden  uprising  of  the  people,  began  their  retreat. 
But  the  woods  seemed  alive  with  minute-men.  From  every 
barn,  and  fence,  and  house,  sped  the  unerring  ball,  as 
closing  darker  and  fiercer  on  the  flying  traces  of  the  enemy, 
the  enraged  patriots  pressed  forward  to  the  attack. 

Wearied,  mortified  and  disgraced,  the  troops  at  length 
reached  Chaiiestown,  with  the  loss  of  two  hundred  and 
seventy- three. 

The  day  went  out  in  gloom.  Silent  terror  or  burning 
rage  filled  every  bosom.  Adams  and  Warren  and  Ward 
and  Otis,  and  others,  rejoiced,  for  they  knew  that  the  clock 
of  Destiny  had  now  struck  the  hour.  Their  great,  grand 
hearts,  though  throbbing  with  anxiety  and  sympathy  for  the 
people,  could  not  refrain  from  swelling  with  triumph  and 
joy,  that  liberty  had  at  last  found  defenders,  and  that  the 
conflict  was  set.  While  friends  were  committing  with  more 
anger  than  sorrow  the  dead  to  the  grave,  men  on  horseback 
with  a  drum  at  their  saddle-bow,  were  flying  over  the  coun- 
try, calling  the  inhabitants  to  arms.  Past  lonely  farm- 
houses, through  the  thin  settlements,  the  swift  riders  sped 
on,  beating  the  alarm  drum  and  shouting,  "  To  arms  !"  As 
the  clatter  of  the  horse's  hoofs  and  the  tap  of  the  drum 
came  and  went,  wives  gazed  with  pale  faces  on  their  hus- 
bands, mothers  with  quivering  lips,  handed  down  the  trusty 
firelock  to  their  sons,  and  sisters  weeping  filled  the  scanty 
knapsacks  of  their  brothers ;  yet  one  and  all  said,  "  Go ! 
in  God's  name  go  and  strike  for  liberty !"  And  they  went 
pouring  forward  to  Boston. 

Putnam  was  in  the  field  mending  his  fence  when  the 
rider,  breathless  with  haste  and  excitement,  reined  up  oppo- 
site him,  and,  dismounting,  hurried  to  where  he  stood. 
"  The  streets  of  Lexington  and  Concord  have  been  soaked 
in  blood,  and  the  country  is  in  a  blaze  !"  was  the  fearful 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  119 

message  he  delivered.  Leaving  his  oxen  where  they  stood, 
not  stopping  to  say  good-by  to  his  wife,  Putnam  leaped  on 
his  swiftest  horse,  and  was  soon  seen  tearing  along  the  road 
toward  Boston.  In  ten  minutes  after  the  messenger  had 
delivered  the  same  fearful  tidings  to  Stark,  he  was  in  the 
saddle  and  galloping  for  the  same  rendezvous.  For  a  long 
time  the  New  England  colonies  had  been  expecting  the 
resort  of  the  enemy  to  violence,  and  minute-men  had  been 
chosen  and  signals  agreed  on,  by  which  the  fatal  news 
was  to  be  transmitted  to  the  remotest  section.  A  swift 
rider,  with  a  drum  by  his  side,  was  to  speed  along  the  great 
thoroughfares  from  colony  to  colony;  but  in  the  side- 
settlements  other  arrangements  had  been  made,  and  in  an 
incredible  short  space  of  time,  it  was  known  in  the  obscurest 
corner  of  the  provinces.  It  was  as  if  powder  had  been  laid 
in  trains  all  over  the  land,  and  a  single  torch  had  ignited 
the  whole  into  a  tracery -work  of  fire,  flashing,  leaping  hea- 
venward. The  news  reached  Stockbridge,  one  of  the  oldest 
and  most  western  settlements  in  Massachusetts,  on  Sunday 
morning,  and  the  inhabitants  of  that  peaceful  valley  were 
thunderstruck,  as  they  saw  their  deacon,  a  Jew  of  the  Jews 
in  his  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  step  out  of  his  door  and 
deliberately  discharge  his  musket.  The  next  moment 
another  pillar  in  the  church  emerged  from  his  door  and 
fired  his  piece.  This  was  the  signal  agreed  upon  to  inform 
the  inhabitants  when  blood  had  been  shed.  Those  musket- 
shots  started  the  farmer  where  he  knelt  at  the  family  altar 
or  sat  reading  God's  word  to  his  family.  The  young  father, 
at  the  sound,  set  down  the  child  he  was  dandling  on  his 
knee  and,  with  a  glance  at  his  pallid  wife,  seized  his  gun ; 
the  aged  sire,  preparing  to  go  to  the  house  of  God,  cast  one 
look  on  the  boy  of  his  love  and  the  prop  of  his  old  age, 
and,  as  it  met  the  quivering  lip  and  mantling  cheek  and 
flashing  eye,  he  said,  "  Go,  and  God's  blessing  go  with 
you !"  In  a  short  time  men,  singly  and  in  groups,  were 


120  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

seen  walking  with  rapid  strides  toward  the  house  of  the 
deacon.  It  was  a  cold  drizzling  morning,  and  as  they 
arrived  they  clustered  on  the  stoop  of  the  building,  ap- 
parently awaiting  some  one.  After  a  little  interval,  their 
pastor,  Mr.  West,  was  seen  coming  down  the  hill,  with  a 
Bible  under  his  arm.  With  care  and  anxiety  depicted  on 
his  countenance,  he  walked  solemnly  into  their  midst.  A 
few  words  told  the  tale.  He  then  opened  the  Bible,  read 
an  appropriate  chapter,  made  a  few  remarks,  and  lifted  his 
trembling  voice  in  prayer.  "  And  now  may  the  blessing  of 
God  Almighty  go  with  you  and  nerve  your  heart  and  arm  in 
the  day  of  battle,"  said  the  afflicted  pastor,  and  turned  away. 
Before  twelve  o'clock,  from  that  little  settlement  twenty  sturdy 
men,  with  knapsacks  on  their  backs  and  muskets  in  their  hands, 
had  started  on  foot  for  Boston,  two  hundred  miles  distant. 
There  were  men  in  those  days — God's  men,  worthy  to  found 
an  empire.  Oh,  how  that  question  must  have  taken  hold 
of  their  souls,  when  it  usurped  even  the  duties  of  the  holy 
Sabbath.  It  was  more  sacred  than  the  worship  of  the 
sanctuary,  it  was  one  with  religion,  and,  fearlessly  appealing 
to  God  and  the  final  judgment  for  the  complete  vindication 
of  their  conduct,  they  moved  resolutely  into  the  strife.  All 
over  the  land  was  this  marvelous  uprising  of  the  people, 
till  the  roads  leading  to  Boston  were  black  with  men  in 
their  homespun  garbs,  and  soon  nearly  twenty  thousand 
stood  on  the  heights  that  overlook  the  city. 

While  these  stirring  scenes  were  passing  in  Massachusetts, 
the  second  Continental  Congress  was  assembling  at  Phila- 
delphia. Governor  Dunmore,  of  Virginia,  had  received 
orders  to  remove  military  stores,  etc.,  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  colonists.  The  attempt  of  General  Gage  to  execute  a 
similar  order,  had  brought  on  the  conflict  at  Lexington  and 
Concord.  Dunmore  chose  the  same  hour  as  Gage  to  carry 
out  his  plan,  and  at  midnight  had  all  the  ammunition  re- 
moved to  a  vessel  in  the  river.  Patrick  Henry  heard  of  it 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  121 

at  Hanover,  and  immediately  calling  together  his  volun- 
teers, marched  to  Williamsburg  and  compelled  the  governor 
to  pay  the  full  amount  of  the  powder.  He  then  departed 
for  Congress.  The  second  Congress,  met  [May  10,  1775,] 
with  gloomy  forebodings.  Their  petitions  to  the  king  had 
been  treated  with  contempt,  and  new  outrages  perpetrated 
on  the  liberties  of  the  colonies.  Blood  had  been  shed,  and 
it  was  evident  to  every  one  that  "  an  appeal  to  arms  and 
the  God  of  battles  was  all  that  was  left"  them.  The  first 
thing  to  be  considered  was  the  state  of  the  country,  the 
second  to  prepare  for  open  hostilities.  Several  committees 
were  appointed,  and  it  is  a  little  singular  that  Washington 
was  made  chairman  of  every  one.  In  the  debates  of  the 
first  Congress  he  must  have  shown  rare  ability,  and  depth 
and  soundness  of  judgment  seldom  witnessed,  to  have  been 
thus  selected,  as  it  were,  to  control  every  committee  ap- 
pointed by  a  Congress  of  men  never  surpassed  in  intellect 
and  virtue.  Among  the  most  important  acts  to  be  done 
was  the  appointment  of  a  commander-in-chief.  Amid  the 
conflicting  feelings  of  the  colonists,  and  the  high  claim  that 
Massachusetts  had  to  that  honor,  this  became  a  very  delicate 
affair.  In  the  mean  time,  Samuel  Adams  arose,  and  moved 
that  the  army  assembled  around  Boston  should  be  adopted 
by  Congress  as  the  Continental  army.  In  sustaining  his 
resolution,  he  remarked  that  he  intended  to  nominate  a 
member  of  that  house  from  Virginia  as  commander-in-chief. 
His  remarks  and  allusions  pointed  so  directly  to  Washing- 
ton, that  the  latter  arose  and  left  the  house.  When  the 
day  for  balloting  came,  he  was  unanimously  elected. 

The  next  morning,  immediately  after  the  convening  of 
Congress,  the  president  arose  and  announced  to  Washington 
his  appointment.  The  latter  briefly  expressed  his  thanks 
for  the  high  honor  conferred  on  him  and  for  the  confidence 
thus  expressed  in  his  ability,  ^nd  then  added — "Lest  some 


122  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

unlucky  event  should  happen  unfavorable  to  my  reputation, 
I  beg  it  may  be  remembered  by  every  gentleman  in  the 
room,  that  I  this  day  declare,  with  the  utmost  sincerity,  I 
do  not  think  myself  equal  to  the  command  I  am  honored 
with."  Referring  to  the  salary  of  $6,000  a  year,  which 
had  been  voted  him,  he  said — "  I  beg  leave  to  assure  Con- 
gress that,  as  no  pecuniary  consideration  could  have  tempted 
me  to  accept  this  arduous  employment  at  the  expense  of 
my  domestic  ease  and  happiness,  I  do  not  wish  to  make  any 
profit  from  it.  I  will  keep  an  exact  account  of  my  ex- 
penses ;  these,  I  doubt  not,  they  will  discharge,  and  that  is 
all  I  desire."  No,  indeed,  it  was  not  worth  while  to  think 
of  money-making  in  the  perilous  path  he  was  about  to 
tread.  The  future  was  all  unknown,  even  should  his  life 
be  spared ;  success  as  yet  was  only  a  vague  dream,  and,  if 
he  failed,  his  vast  fortune  would  be  confiscated  and  his  wife 
become  a  beggar.  But  this,  too,  was  a  mere  item ;  if  he 
failed  he  would  hang  as  high  as  Haman,  or  spend  his  re- 
maining days  in  some  remote  Botany  Bay,  eating  the  bread 
of  exile  and  fretting  his  great  soul  away  in  the  fetters  of  a 
felon.  But,  like  one  greater  even  than  he,  and  speaking  of 
a  still  nobler  cause,  he  could  say,  "  none  of  these  things 
move  me,  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto  me." 

Of  Washington's  communings  that  night  to  himself,  after 
he  had  retired  to  his  solitary  chamber,  we  have  no  record. 
It  is  strange  that  one  who  kept  a  diary  from  the  time  he  was 
sixteen  years  old,  and  often  of  facts  trivial  in  themselves, 
never  alludes  to  his  feelings.  We  read  that  diary,  extend- 
ing through  years,  without  ever  once  penetrating  into  his 
inward  life.  Unlike  Cromwell,  he  discloses  none  of  his  in- 
ward struggles,  secret  griefs,  misgivings,  fears  or  hopes.  His 
acts  are  the  world's,  his  thoughts  his  own,  and  he  moves 
before  us  always  in  light,  yet  always  in  shade.  If  Wash- 
ington had  left  us  a  record  of  his  thoughts,  even  during  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  123 

single  night  after  he  had  cast  life  and  fortune  and  character 
in  a  desperate  struggle,  what  an  insight  should  we  get  of 
his  character.  His  family,  that  he  probably  would  never 
see  again,  his  honor,  his  name,  above  all,  the  fate  of  a  free 
people  now  committed  to  his  trust,  occupied  in  turn  his 
thoughts  and  awakened  into  painful  intensity  his  sympathies 
and  his  solicitude.  He  was  a  commander  without  an  availa- 
ble army  and  without  munitions  of  war,  and  was  required 
to  deliver  a  nation  already  bankrupt,  and  soon  to  be  rent  by 
civil  war,  from  the  armies  and  fleets  of  the  strongest  em- 
pire on  the  globe.  He  was  not  one  of  those  who  build 
hopes  on  dreams,  and  can  be  cheated  into  security  by  the 
illusions  of  fancy.  The  future  lay  clear  before  him ;  that 
is,  it  was  darkness  unrelieved  by  scarce  a  ray  of  light  into 
which  he  was  resolved  to  move  with  an  undaunted  heart, 
trusting  in  that  God  who  often  chooses  the  gloomiest  hour 
in  which  to  reveal  his  presence  and  extend  his  aid.  That 
was  not  a  night  for  sleep ;  yet  how  little  he  conjectured,  as 
he  lay  revolving  the  momentous  responsibilities  he  had 
assumed,  and  the  fearful  issues  to  his  country  he  was  to 
decide,  of  what  was  then  passing  around  Boston.  All  that 
night  the  strokes  of  the  spade  and  pickaxe  were  falling 
quick  and  strong  on  Breed's  Hill,  and  column  after  column 
of  men  was  swiftly  and  silently  marching  forward  to  the 
low  redoubt  that  the  morning  sun  would  reveal  to  the 
astonished  British. 

If  Washington's  appointment  as  commander-in-chief  had 
been  borne  by  viewless  messengers  to  the  armv,  the  latter 
could  not  have  hailed  the  news  with  more  appropriate  de- 
monstrations than  it  did.  The  tremendous  cannonading 
from  sea  and  land — the  flames  of  burning  Charlestown,  and 
the  high  and  ringing  cheers  from  the  intrenched  heights, 
were  a  fit  acknowledgment  of  an  event  destined  to  be  so 
momentous  in  its  final  results. 

Four  days  after  he    received   his   commission,  and  the 


124  LIFE   OF    WASHINGTON. 

next  day,  accompanied  by  Generals  Schuyler  and  Lee,* 
started  for  Boston.  A  committee  from  the  Provincial  Con- 
gress of  New  York  met  him  on  the  road  and  escorted  him, 
amid  the  acclamations  of  the  people,  into  the  city.  He  had 
heard  on  the  way  rumors  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  but 
here  he  first  became  acquainted  with  all  the  particulars. 
The  news  made  him  eager  to  hasten  forward,  and  escorted 
by  volunteer  companies,  he  proceeded  to  Springfield,  where 
he  was  met  by  a  committee  from  the  Provmcia"1  Congress 
of  Massachusetts.  He  found  the  country,  as  he  passed 
through  it,  in  a  blaze  of  excitement,  and  the  preparations 
to  arm  resounding  on  every  side.  The  gallant  defense  of 
the  militia  at  Bunker  Hill,  and  the  enthusiasm  that  pre- 
vailed, could  not  but  be  cheering  to  the  new  conrnander-in- 
chief;  yet  he  well  knew,  from  past  experience,  the  dif- 
ference between  a  single  enthusiastic  defense  of  a  position, 
and  the  harassing,  disheartening  duties  of  a  long  campaign. 
He  reached  Cambridge  on  the  2d  of  July,  and  the  next 
morning  walked  to  the  great  elm-tree  standing  on  the  Com-* 
mon,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  formally  took  command  of 
the  army.  Loud  acclamations  rent  the  air,  and  hope  and 
animation  pervaded  the  ranks.  The  Provincial  Congress, 
then  sitting  at  Watertown,  near  by,  presented  an  address, 
in  which  they  pledged  him  their  entire  cooperation,  and  the 
most  flattering  testimonials  poured  in  upon  him  from  every 
quarter.  He  ascertained  that  the  troops  assembled  num- 
bered nearly  15,000  men,  while  the  British  force  in  and 
around  Boston  amounted  to  11,500.  But  the  troops  now 
christened  as  the  "  Continental  Army"  were  as  motley  a 
set  as  ever  gathered  under  one  banner.  There  was  no  or- 
ganization, no  unity.  The  militia  of  the  different  provinces 

*  These,  together  with  Artemas  Ward  and  Israel  Putnam,  had  been  appointed 
major-generals  :  and  Seth  Pomeroy,  RHiard  Montgomerj',  David  Wooster,  Wil- 
liam  Heath,  Joseph  Spencer,  John  Thomas,  John  Sullivan,  and  Nathaniel  Greene, 
brigadiers. 


"  "•'^sta 
™ 


Washington  dragging  the  I'"Li.-l  er  ashore 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  127 

acknowledged  no  authority  but  that  of  their  several  com- 
manders, while  the  excitement  and  enthusiasm  had  called 
together  not  only  true  patriots,  but  adventurers  of  every 
description.  To  render  matters  still  worse,  this  heteroge- 
neous multitude  were  almost  without  ammunition.  But, 
notwithstanding  the  disorders  that  prevailed  among  them, 
there  was  the  groundwork  of  a  noble  army.  Intrenchments 
had  already  been  thrown  up,  and  a  line  of  defense  com- 
pleted from  the  Mystic  river  to  Roxbury,  twelve  miles  in 
extent,  entirely  hemming  in  the  British  army.  The  en- 
campment of  the  Americans  presented  a  strange  yet  pic- 
turesque spectacle.  Scarcely  any  but  the  Rhode  Island 
troops  had  tents.  The  extemporaneous  shelter  thrown  up 
evinced  the  craft  of  the  frontiersman  rather  than  the  know- 
ledge of  the  soldier.  Here  stood  a  collection  of  rude  stone 
hovels,  with  an  opening  that  looked  like  the  entrance  to  a 
cavern ;  there  a  group  of  board  pens,  made  of  slabs  and 
sticks  patched  with  sails ;  while  farther  on  were  scattered 
turf  mounds,  hastily  thrown  up,  and  looking  more  like  the 
home  of  the  prairie  wolf  than  the  abodes  of  men ;  yet  all 
showing  where  the  strong-limbed  citizen-soldier  slept.  The 
handsome  marquees  of  the  officers,  here  and  there  relieving 
the  dilapidated,  fragmentary  character  of  the  encampment, 
completed  the  singular  spectacle. 

On  the  4th  of  July,  a  day  made  afterward  still  more 
memorable  by  the  glorious  Declaration  of  Independence, 
Washington  issued  his  first  general  order  to  the  Continental 
army.  In  this,  after  expressing  the  hope  that  all  jealousies 
of  the  different  colonies  would  be  laid  aside,  and  the  only 
contest  be  who  should  render  the  greatest  aid  to  the  com- 
mon cause,  and  insisting  on  discipline  and  subordination,  he 
says — "  The  general  most  earnestly  requires  and  expects  a 
due  observance  of  those  articles  of  war  established  for  the 
government  of  the  army,  which  forbid  profane  cursing, 
swearing  and  drunkenness ;  and  in  like  manner  he  requires 


128  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

and  expects  of  all  officers  and  soldiers,  not  engaged  on 
actual  duty,  a  punctual  attendance  on  divine  service,  to 
implore  the  blessings  of  Heaven  upon  the  means  used  for 
our  safety  and  defense."  Such  an  order  read  to  an  Euro- 
pean army  would  have  stunned  them  more  than  the  an- 
nouncement of  treason  in  their  commander.  But  Washing- 
ton wished  it  understood  at  the  outset,  both  by  his  troops 
and  the  whole  world,  that  the  cause  in  which  he  had  em- 
barked was  a  holy  one,  and  must  be  disfigured  by  none  of 
those  excesses  which  are  considered  a  necessary  part  of  a 
camp  life.  Reverently  fixing  his  eye  on  Heaven,  he  sum- 
mons his  followers  to  look  thither  also,  ever  fervently 
praying  for  that  help  which  alone  can  come  from  above. 

The  organization  of  the  .army  which  followed,  proved  an 
annoying  and  a  difficult  task.  At  the  very  outset  murmurs 
and  discontent  arose  at  the  appointment  of  the  superior 
officers  by  Congress.  Selecting  generals,  not  for  their 
ability  and  long  service,  but  according  to  their  locality,  or 
to  please  powerful  friends,  was  one  of  the  first  false  steps 
made  by  Congress,  and  from  which  it  never  receded  through- 
out the  war.  This  pernicious,  perilous  example,  thus  set  at 
the  very  commencement  of  our  national  existence,  the 
American  government  has  ever  since  adhered  to,  with  a 
pertinacity  that  no  disgrace  or  humiliation  can  weaken.  It 
covered  us  with  defeat  for  two  years  in  the  war  of  1812, 
and,  but  for  the  able  officers  given  us  by  West  Point,  would 
have  sent  the  army  back  discomfited  from  Mexico. 

The  excitement  that  prevailed  among  the  troops,  on  this 
account,  threatened  to  disrupt  the  army ;  but  Washington, 
by  promising  to  lay  their  complaints  before  Congress  and 
get  justice  done,  gradually  allayed  it.  By  arranging  the 
brigades  and  regiments  in  such  a  manner  that  the  troops 
from  each  colony  should  for  the  most  part  be  under  their 
own  commander,  lie  restored  harmony.  Still,  many  of 
them  refused  to  sign  the  rules  anil  regulations  presented  by 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  129 

Congress  ;  they  had  taken  up  arms  to  fight  for  liberty — not 
merely  provincial,  but  personal  liberty,  and  they  were  not 
going  to  sign  it  away  to  Congress  any  more  than  to  Parlia- 
ment. Military  despotism  was  a  bugbear  that  constantly 
stood  in  the  way  of  thorough  organization  of  a  regular 
army.  This  constant  doubt  of  the  purity  of  his  intentions 
and  practical  distrust  of  his  measures  and  plans,  arrested 
Washington  at  every  step,  and  would  have  disgusted,  irri- 
tated and  disheartened  any  other  commander.  Even  Con- 
gress exhibited  this  jealousy  of  his  power,  fettering  and 
baffling  him,  so  that  his  plans  were  not  the  reflex  of  him- 
self, but  rather  a  compromise  of  his  own  wisdom  with  the 
fears  and  demands  and  follies  of  those  around  him.  There 
is  no  position  so  trying  to  a  brave  commander  as  this ;  the 
most  perilous  breach  is  far  preferable  to  it.  It  is  in  such 
circumstances  as  these  that  Washington's  moral  character 
rises  in  its  grand  and  beautiful  proportions  before  us.  With 
the  hot  blood  and  chivalric  daring  of  a  southron,  joined  to 
the  prudence,  forecast  and  wisdom  of  the  sage,  he  added 
the  patience,  forbearance  and  meekness  of  a  Christian. 
Such  a  combination  is  the  rarest  on  earth.  Thus,  while  the 
delays,  inaction  and  incomplete  organization  of  the  army 
around  Boston  have  furnished  apparently  solid  ground  for 
historians  to  underrate  his  military  ability,  they  in  fact 
enhance  it,  by  showing  him  firm  and  uncomplaining  under 
circumstances  far  worse  to  be  borne  than  defeat.  Had  that 
army  been  like  a  single  instrument  in  Washington's  hands, 
wielded  at  his  will,  the  siege  of  Boston  would  have  exhibited 
a  brilliancy  of  manoeuvre,  an  energy  and  daring  of  action, 
that  would  have  astonished  his  adversaries ;  but,  chaining 
bis  great  soul  and  glowing  heart  to  the  wheels  of  a  dilatory 
Congress  and  the  clogs  of  prejudice  and  suspicion,  he  toiled 
slowly,  patiently,  like  a  bound  giant,  toward  the  object  of 
his  endeavors.  He  knew  that  the  great  majority  of  those 
who  had  gathered  to  his  standard,  however  they  might  err 


130  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

in  judgment,  were  true  men  and  patriots  at  heart,  and 
example  would  tell  on  them  in  time.  His  practiced  eye  also 
soon  discovered  there  were  regiments  whose  noble  devotion 
would  carry  them  wherever  he  would  lead.  Morgan's  rifle- 
men were  a  splendid  body  of  men,  and  the  words  inscribed 
on  their  breasts,  "Liberty  or  Death,"  were  symbolical  of 
the  brave  hearts  that  throbbed  beneath. 

Pennsylvania  and  Maryland  also  responded  to  the  call  of 
Congress  for  troops,  and  the  constant  arrival  of  reinforce- 
ments kept  the  camp  in  a  glow  and  filled  the  army  with 
confidence  and  pride. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"Washington  Remonstrates  against  the  Treatment  of  American  Prisoners — Sends 
Arnold  to  Quebec — Want  of  Powder  in  the  Army — A  new  Army  raised — The 
National  Flag  first  hoisted — Washington  prevented  from  Assaulting  the  Enemy's 
Works — His  feelings  under  the  delay — Thinks  of  the  poor  at  home — "  Boston 
Blockaded,"  a  farce — Washington  takes  possession  of  Dorchester  Heights — 
Howe  resolves  to  storm  them — Attempt  abandoned,  and  the  Evacuation  of  Bos- 
ton commenced — Sufferings  of  the  Tories — Washington  orders  the  Army  to  New 
York — Lee  sent  South — His  Letter — Washington  visits  Congress — His  Views  of 
a  Declaration  of  Independence — Defeat  of  the  Northern  Army — Attempt  to 
spread  disaffection  in  Washington's  guard — Congress  discusses  the  Declaration  of 
Independence — Excitement  in  Philadelphia  at  the  final  vote — Its  reception  by 
the  Army  and  People — Operations  around  New  York — Howe's  Letter  to  George 
Washington,  Esq. — The  assembling  of  the  British  force — State  of  the  two 
Armies. 

WHILE  Washington  was  thus  cautiously,  slowly  fusing  the 
discordant  elements  together,  and  getting  the  army  into 
manageable  shape,  he  was  told  that  the  American  prisoners 
taken  at  Bunker  Hill  were  cruelly  treated  by  the  British — 
officers,  soldiers  and  citizens  being  thrown  indiscriminately 
into  prison  together.  He  immediately  wrote  to  his  old 
comrade  in  arms,  General  Gage,  remonstrating  against  this 
treatment.  Gage  denied  the  charge,  declaring  it  was  an 
act  of  clemency  on  his  part  that  they  were  not  strung  up 
on  the  gallows ;  and  as  to  the  different  rank  of  those  who 
fell  into  his  hands,  he  recognized  no  grade  but  that  bestowed 
by  the  king.  Washington,  in  replying  to  this  insolent  and 
dishonorable  note,  said,  "  You  affect,  sir,  to  despise  all  rank 
not  derived  from  the  same  source  as  your  own.  I  cannot 
conceive  one  more  honorable  than  that  which  flows  from 
the  uncorrupted  choice  of  a  brave  and  free  people,  the 
purest  source  and  original  fountain  of  all  power."  He  im- 
mediately, in  retaliation  for  the  treatment  of  Americans, 
ordered  some  British  prisoners  into  the  country,  to  be 
placed  in  close  confinement.  They  had  not  proceeded  far, 


132  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

however,  before  he  sent  a  dispatch  countermanding  the 
order,  and  requesting  the  Committee  of  Northampton,  to 
whom  they  had  been  intrusted,  to  treat  them  with  all  pos- 
sible leniency.  Just  and  politic  as  the  measure  was,  his 
heart  revolted  at  making  the  innocent  suffer  for  the  guilty. 

In  the  meantime,  Congress  had  ordered  General  Schuyler 
to  the  Northern  Department,  to  take  St.  John's,  Montreal, 
and  other  portions  of  Upper  Canada.  Washington,  seeing 
this  movement  would  draw  the  British  troops  under  Gov- 
ernor Carle  ton  away  from  Quebec,  resolved  to  send  an  ex- 
pedition against  it  across  the  wilderness.  Eleven  hundred 
men  were  put  under  Arnold,  who  had  just  returned  from 
the  capture  of  Ticonderoga.  This  extraordinary  man 
entered  upon  the  desperate  undertaking  with  all  the  ener- 
gy, daring  and  high  courage  that  distinguished  him.  Not- 
withstanding the  desertion  of  one  of  his  officers,  and  the 
unparalleled  difficulties  that  beset  his  way,  he  finally 
reached  Quebec,  and  effected  a  junction  with  Montgomery. 
While  this  expedition  was  progressing  to  its  disastrous  issue, 
Washington  made  preparations  to  fall  on  the  English  bat- 
teries and  storm  Boston.  But  no  powder  was  to  be  had, 
while  there  remained  only  a  few  rounds  to  each  man.  This 
alarming  state  of  things  Washington  dare  not  communicate, 
except  to  a  few  of  his  own  officers,  lest  it  should  leak  out 
and  get  to  the  ears  of  the  British  commander.  To  those 
who  were  ignorant  of  this  fact,  the  inactivity  that  followed 
seemed  unaccountable. 

A  short  time  previous  to  this  determination,  he  had 
caused  six  armed  schooners  to  be  fitted  out,  to  cruise 
against  the  enemy  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston.  Several 
captures  were  made,  and  among  them  one  by  Captain 
Manly,  with  a  quantity  of  powder  aboard. 

But  now  the  term  of  enlistment  of  a  large  part  of  the 
army  was  drawing  to  a  close.  A  new  army  must  therefore 
be  raised,  and  a  committee  from  Congress  came  on  to  con- 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  133 

suit  with  him  on  the  best  means  of  doing  it.  Six  months 
had  elapsed  since  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  the  excited 
expectations  of  the  country  had  met  with  sad  disappoint- 
ment. But  now  nothing  could  be  done  till  the  reorganiza- 
tion of  the  army  was  effected.  This,  however,  proceeded 
slowly.  Winter  set  in,  and  but  five  thousand  recruits  had 
arrived.  So  few  of  the  old  soldiers  reenlisted,  and  they 
left  in  such  numbers  that  Washington  at  one  time  feared  he 
would  be  left  without  an  army.  But  even  for  the  few  that 
remained  no  provision  had  been  made,  and  as  the  frost  and 
snows  of  December  came  on,  the  troops  began  to  suffer 
severely,  and  a  feeling  of  despondency  weighed  down  both 
officers  and  men.  The  latter  were  scantily  clothed  and 
destitute  of  fuel.  Some  of  the  regiments  ate  their  food  raw 
for  want  of  fire,  while  detached  parties  were  seen  in  every 
direction  carrying  off*  fences,  and  cutting  down  fruit  and 
shade  trees,  with  which  to  kindle  a  meagre  fire  in  their 
dilapidated  cabins,  through  which  the  winds  of  winter 
whistled.  Many  of  those  who  had  joined  the  army  with 
high  spirits  now  began  to  think  of  their  distant  friends,  and 
watching  their  opportunity,  stole  away  from  camp,  and 
turned  their  footsteps  homeward.  The  clouds  gathered 
darker  and  darker  around  the  head  of  Washington,  and  his 
heart  was  oppressed  with  the  gravest  fears,  yet  he  still 
stood  firm  and  serene,  the  pillar  of  hope  to  all  around.  As 
a  last  resort  he  issued  a  stirring  call  to  the  New  England 
militia,  which  met  with  a  warm  response,  and  the  hardy 
yeomanry  came  pouring  in.  Provisions  were  obtained,  and 
in  ten  days  a  wonderful  transformation  was  effected.  The 
camp  looked  bright  again,  and  the  arrival,  at  nearly  the 
same  time,  of  Washington's  wife  and  the  wives  of  several 
of  the  other  officers,  gave  to  the  holydays  a  cheerful  aspect, 
and  rekindled  hope  and  confidence  in  the  commander.  The 
New  Year,  which  threatened  to  look  on  a  disbanded  army, 
beheld  nearly  17,000  well  ordered  men. 

8 


134  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

On  the  first  day  of  Januar}^  the  national  flag  of  thirteen 
stripes  was  hoisted  for  the  first  time  over  the  American 
army,  and  as  it  flaunted  to  the  wind,  acclamations  and 
shouts  and  salvos  of  artillery  greeted  it.  As  Washington's 
eye  watched  it  undulating  gracefully  in  the  breeze,  what 
thoughts  must  have  filled  his  heart.  The  symbol  of  liberty, 
it  was  to  move  in  front  of  his  battalions  to  victory  or  defeat. 
In  the  fate  of  that  flag  was  wrapped  all  that  he  hoped  for 
or  feared  in  life.  From  that  moment  its  destiny  and  his 
own  were  to  be  one  and  the  same.  He  expected  to  carry 
it,  at  the  head  of  his  columns,  through  smoke  and  carnage, 
perhaps  be  laid  upon  it  in  death  after  some  hard  fought 
field,  but  how  little  he  dreamed  what  its  marvelous  history 
would  be.  "What  would  have  been  his  astonishment  had  it 
been  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  before  all  those  who  are  now 
looking  on  that  flag  shall  die.  these  thirteen  colonies  shall  be 
thirty  states,  the  three  millions  of  people,  for  whose  free- 
dom you  are  struggling,  be  more  than  thirty." 

The  king's  speech  before  Parliament,  in  which  he  de- 
clared that  the  most  efficient  measures  would  be  taken  to 
put  down  the  rebellion,  but  at  the  same  time  pardon  would 
be  extended  to  all  who  sued  for  it,  arrived  on  the  same  day 
the  flag  was  hoisted  in  the  American  camp.  The  salvos  of 
artillery  and  rejoicings  that  signalized  the  latter  event, 
Howe,  who  had  succeeded  Gage,  took  as  an  expression  of 
joy  over  the  gracious  nature  of  the  king's  offer. 

Washington,  who  from  the  first  had  been  very  much  em- 
barrassed in  prosecuting  the  siege  of  Boston,  for  want  of 
heavy  cannon,  at  length  dispatched  Knox  to  the  forts  on 
Lake  Champlain  captured  from  the  British,  for  them.  About 
this  time  the  latter  returned,  and  the  long  train  of  forty- 
two  sleds,  laden  with  thirty-nine  cannon,  fourteen  mortars, 
two  howitzers,  over  two  thousand  pounds  of  lead,  and  a 
hundred  barrels  of  flints,  as  it  slowly  entered  the  camp,  put 
a  new  face  on  aftairs,  and  Washington  resolved  to  assault 


tn.gravied  Irr  J  W.  Steel. 


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inal  of  HIP  IVUcr  Ihtn/t:. prior  to  th.o  revokitioii 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  137 

/ 

the  enemy's  works  at  once.  Congress  was  also  anxious 
that  the  attack  should  be  hurried  forward.  The  regiments, 
howeyer,  were  not  yet  filled,  and  at  the  council  of  officers 
called,  a  still  further  delay  was  decided  upon.  Nothing 
could  be  more  irksome  and  irritating  than  the  position  in 
which  Washington  found  himself.  "  I  know,"  said  he,  "the 
unhappy  predicament  in  which  I  stand;  I  know  what  is 
expected  of  me.  I  know  that  I  cannot  stand  justified  to 
the  world  without  exposing  my  own  weakness,  and  injuring 
the  cause  by  declaring  my  wants,  and  my  situation  is  so 
irksome  to  me  at  times  that  if  I  did  not  consult  the  public 
good  more  than  my  own  tranquillity,  I  should,  long  ere  this, 
•put  every  thing  on  the  cast  of  a  die."  That  is,  if  it  had 
been  a  matter  of  mere  personal  reputation,  he  would  have 
ended  the  suspense  that  galled  him  like  a  fetter,  by  one 
desperate  onset.  He  regretted  that  he  had  been  persuaded 
into  delay  on  the  promise  of  a  larger  and  better  army,  and 
when  he  saw  the  disinclination  of  the  soldiers  to  reenlist, 
he  said,  "  could  I  have  known  that  such  backwardness 
would  have  been  discovered  by  the  old  soldiers  to  the  service, 
all  the  generals  upon  earth  would  not  have  convinced  me  of  the 
propriety  of  delaying  an  attack  on  Boston  till  this  time." 

In  the  midst  of  these  trials  and  embarrassments  came  the 
news  of  Arnold's  failure  at  Quebec,  and  Schuyler's  in  Can- 
ada, accompanied  by  a  letter  from  "the  latter,  requesting  a 
reinforcement  of  three  thousand  men.  But  while  envel- 
oped in  perplexities,  and  his  mind  occupied  by  such  vast 
and  varied  schemes,  he  had  time  to  think  of  the  poor  on 
and  around  his  plantation,  and  early  in  the  winter  he  wrote 
home  to  Lady  Washington,  "  Let  the  hospitality  of  the 
house,  with  respect  to  the  poor,  be  kept  up.  Let  no  one  go 
hungry  away.  If  any  of  this  kind  of  people  should  be  in 
want  of  corn,  supply  their  necessities,  provided  it  does  not 
encourage  them  in  idleness."  Although  in  the  present 
condition  of  his  affairs,  and  receiving  nothing  for  his  ser 


138  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

vices,  the  "  greatest  frugality  and  economy"  are  demanded, 
he  wishes  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  to  be  devoted  annu- 
ally to  the  poor.  Nothing  escapes  his  all-embracing  mind, 
and  still  more  all-embracing  heart. 

All  this  time  the  two  armies  lay  only  a  mile  apart,  in  full 
view  of  each  other's  operations,  while  the  outposts  were 
almost  within  speaking  distance.  Scarcely  a  day  passed  in 
which  there  was  not  more  or  less  cannonading  by  the  enemy, 
to  which  the  Americans,  for  want  of  powder,  had  to  submit 
in  silence.  What  little  they  had  was  reserved,  as  Washing- 
ton remarked,  "  for  closer  work  than  cannon  distance,  when- 
ever the  red-coat  gentry  please  to  step  out  of  their  intrench- 
inents." 

As  the  winter  passed  on  the  British  began  to  feel  the 
want  of  provisions.  Meat  of  all  kinds  was  ruinously  high, 
while  houses  were  torn  down  to  furnish  fuel  for  the  soldiers. 
The  parsonage  of  the  old  South  Meeting-house,  the  old 
North  Chapel,  and  the  wooden  steeple  of  the  West  Church, 
were  one  after  another  pulled  to  pieces  for  this  purpose, 
while  the  glorious  old  "  Libert}?-  Tree"  furnished  fourteen 
cords  of  wood.  Faneuil  Hall  was  fitted  up  as  a  theatre,  in 
which  a  farce  called  "  Boston  Blockaded,"  was  played,  to 
the  infinite  amusement  of  the  British  and  Tories.  One  of 
the  chief  characters  in  it  was  Washington,  who  cut  a  sorry 
figure  on  the  stage.  Shabbily  clad,  with  a  long,  rusty  sword 
by  his  side,  attended  by  an  ungainly,  ragged  servant,  carry- 
ing an  ancient  gun,  he  walked  the  boards  with  a  gait  that 
drew  down  the  house,  while  his  speeches  were  received  with 
immoderate  laughter.  This  was  all  very  well  in  a  farce, 
but  an  incident  occurred  one  night  that  showed  how  close 
fear  trod  on  the  heels  of  laughter. 

A  detachment  had  been  sent  to  Charlestown  to  destroy 
.some  houses  either  occupied,  or  used  for  fuel  by  British 
soldiers.  In  this  they  wore  successful,  making  several 
prisoners.  The  skirmish  that  followed  was  taken  by  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  139 

outposts  for  a  general  movement  of  the  army  and  an  officer 
burst  into  the  theatre  exclaiming,  "  the  rebels  are  attacking 
our  works  on  Bunker  Hill !"  The  audience,  supposing  this 
to  be  a  part  of  the  play,  and  intended  as  a  surprise,  roared 
with  laughter,  but  when,  suddenly,  high  over  the  merri- 
ment, Lord  Howe,  who  was  present,  shouted,  "  Officers,  to 
your  alarm  posts!"  the  farce  was  turned  into  a  tragedy,  and 
manager,  characters,  audience  and  all,  rushed  pell-mell 
from  the  building. 

The  winter  had  been  so  mild,  that  but  little  ice  had 
formed  in  the  waters  around  Boston,  but  at  length,  in  the 
middle  of  February,  it  froze  hard  enough  to  bear  troops, 
and  Washington  proposed  to  take  advantage  of  it  at  once, 
and,  crossing  from  Roxbury  to  Dorchester  Heights,  fortify 
the  latter,  and  at  the  same  time  carry  Boston  by  assault. 
A  council  of  war,  however,  decided  that  the  latter  attempt 
was  too  perilous.  Mortified  and  disappointed  at  this  lack 
of  spirit  and  daring,  Washington,  nevertheless,  resolved  to 
take  possession  of  Dorchester  Heights,  and  plant  his  bat- 
teries above  the  town,  and,  if  needs  be,  demolish  it,  crowded 
though  it  was  with  friends  as  well  as  foes.  The  noble 
Hancock  had  urged  him  to  do  this,  and,  if  necessary,  send 
the  first  shot  against  his  own  dwelling. 

The  great  difficulty,  however,  was  to  cast  up  intrench- 
ments  in  a  single  night,  sufficiently  strong  to  cover  the 
troops  from  the  British  fire  in  the  morning.  The  manner 
in  which  this  was  done  I  find  thus  clearly  related  in  the 
diary  of  Rufus  Putnam,  the  chief  engineer  of  the  army.* 

"  1776,  January  and  February.  During  those  months 
the  mind  of  General  Washington  was  deeply  engaged  in  a 

*  Judge  Putnam  of  Ohio,  the  descendant  of  Rufus  Putnam,  has  kindly  furnished 
me  with  the  manuscript  diary  of  his  ancestor,  together  with  other  valuable  papers. 
Though  not  a  professed  engineer,  he  had  had  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  the 
French  war,  and  the  post  was  almost  forced  upon  him  by  Washington  and  the 
other  generals.  All  the  works  at  Dorchester,  Roxbury,  and  Brookline,  were  laid 
out  by  him. 


140  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

plan  of  crossing  on  the  ice,  and  attacking  the  British  in 
Boston  and  taking  possession  of  Dorchester  Neck. 

"  Now,  with  respect  to  taking  possession  of  Dorchester 
Neck,  there  were  circumstances  which  fell  under  my  know- 
ledge and  sphere  of  duty,  which  were  so  evidently  marked 
by  the  hand  of  an  overruling  Providence,  that  I  think  pro- 
per to  relate  them. 

"As  soon  as  the  ice  was  thought  sufficiently  strong  for 
the  army  to  cross  over,  or  perhaps  rather  before,  a  council 
of  general  officers  was  convened  on  the  subject.  What  their 
particular  opinions  were  I  never  knew,  but  the  brigadiers 
were  directed  to  consult  the  field-officers  of  their  several 
regiments,  and  they  again  to  feel  the  temper  of  the  captains 
and  subalterns. 

"  While  this  was  doing,  I  was  invited  to  dine  at  head- 
quarters ;  and  while  at  dinner  General  Washington  desired 
me  to  tarry  after  dinner,  and  when  we  were  alone  he  en- 
tered into  a  free  conversation  on  the  subject  of  storming  the 
town  of  Boston. 

"  That  it  Avas  much  better  to  draw  the  enemy  out  to 
Dorchester,  than  to  attack  him  in  Boston,  no  one  doubted ; 
for  if  we  could  maintain  ourselves  on  that  point  or  neck  of 
land,  our  command  of  the  town  and  harbor  of  Boston  would 
be  such  as  would  probably  compel  them  to  leave  the  place. 

"  But  the  cold  weather,  which  had  made  a  bridge  of  ice 
for  our  passage  into  Boston,  had  also  frozen  the  earth  to  a 
great  depth,  especially  in  the  open  country,  as  was  the  hills 
on  Dorchester  Neck — so  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  a 
lodgment  there  in  the  usual  way.  However,  the  general 
directed  me  to  consider  the  subject,  and  if  I  could  think  of 
any  way  in  which  it  could  be  done,  to  make  report  to  him 
immediately. 

"And  now  mark  those  singular  circumstances  which  I  call 
providential.  I  left  head-quarters  with  another  gentleman, 
and  in  our  wav  came  by  General  Heath's.  I  had  no  thought 

«/  V  O 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

of  calling  until  I  came  against  his  door,  and  then  I  says  let 
us  call  on  General  Heath ;  to  which  he  agreed.  I  had  no 
other  motive  but  to  pay  my  respects  to  the  general.  While 
there,  I  cast  my  eye  on  a  book  which  lay  on  the  table,  let- 
tered on  the  back,  '  Midler's  Field  Engineer.'  I  immedi- 
ately requested  the  general  to  lend  it  to  me — he  denied  me. 
I  repeated  my  request — he  again  refused,  and  told  me  he 
never  lent  his  books.  I  then  told  him  that  he  must  recol- 
lect that  he  was  one  who  at  Roxbury  in  a  measure  com- 
pelled me  to  undertake  a  business  which,  at  the  time,  I  con- 
fessed I  had  never  read  a  word  about,  and  that  he  must  let 
me  have  the  book.  After  some  more  excuses  on  his  part, 
and  close  pressing  on  my  part,  I  obtained  the  loan  of  it.  I 
arrived  at  my  quarters  about  dark.  It  was  the  custom  for 
the  overseers  of  the  workmen  to  report  every  evening  what 
progress  had  been  made  during  the  day.  When  I  arrived 
there  were  some  of  them  already  there.  I  put  my  book  in 
the  chest,  and  if  I  had  time  did  not  think  of  looking  in  it 
that  night. 

"  The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  offered,  I 
took  my  book  from  the  chest,  and  looking  over  the  contents 
found  the  word  '  chandeliers.'  What  is  that  ?  thought  I — • 
it  is  something  I  never  heard  of  before  ;  but  no  sooner  did 
I  turn  to  the  page  where  it  was  described,  with  its  use,  but  I 
was  ready  to  report  a  plan  for  making  a  lodgment  on  Dor- 
chester Neck,  (infidels  may  laugh  if  they  please.)  In1  a  few 
minutes  after  I  had  for  myself  determined,  Col.  Gridley 
(the  engineer  who  had  conducted  the  work  at  Cambridge) 
with  Col.  Knox  of  the  artillery,  who  had  been  directed  to 
consult  with  me  on  the  subject,  arrived.  They  fell  in  with 
my  plan — our  report  was  approved  of  by  the  general,  and 
preparations  immediately  set  on  foot  to  carry  it  into  effect; 
and,  every  thing  being  ready  for  the  enterprise,  the  plan 
was  put  in  execution,  and  a  lodgment  made  on  Dorchester 
Heights  in  the  night  of  the  fourth  of  March.  Such  were 


142  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  circumstances  which  led  to  the  discovery  of  a  plan 
which  obliged  the  enemy  to  leave  Boston,  viz.  a  lodgment 
made  of  chandelier*  fascines,  etc." 

The  better  to  conceal  his  purpose,  and  make  it  appear 
that  an  attack  on  the  line  was  about  to  be  made,  Washing- 
ton, on  Saturday  night,  the  2d  of  March,  opened  a  tre- 
mendous cannonade,  the  heavy  metal  reaching  even  into 
the  city,  and  shattering  the  houses.  The  British  replied, 
and  the  two  armies  thundered  on  each  other  all  night.  The 
next  (Sunday)  night  Washington  again  opened  his  heavy 
batteries.  On  Monday  night,  while  the  deafening  explo- 
sions were  filling  the  inhabitants  of  Boston  with  terror,  he 
ordered  General  Thomas  with  two  thousand  men  to  march 
swiftly  across  the  neck  and  occupy  the  heights.  Bundles 
of  hay  had  been  laid  along  on  the  town  side  to  prevent  the 
rumbling  of  the  three  hundred  carts  that  followed  from 
reaching  the  enemy's  outposts.  This  immense  train  of 
carts,  driven  rapidly  over  the  neck,  carried  the  pressed  hay 
and  fascines,  etc.,  for  the  chandeliers.  It  was  a  bright 
moonlight  night  as  the  soldiers  wheeled  up  the  heights, 
unseen  by  the  sentinels  below,  and  commenced  their  work. 
The  bundles  of  hay  were  tumbled  out  and  picketed  to- 
gether in  the  frames  constructed  for  them,  and  when  the 
bright  sun  gleamed  down  on  the  frozen  waters  it  revealed 
to  the  astonished  enemy  two  dark  structures  standing  on 
Dorchester  Heights.  Howe  was  amazed  at  the  apparition, 
and  after  surveying  the  works  long  and  anxiously  through 
his  glass,  exclaimed,  "  I  know  not  what  I  shall  do."  The 
play  of  "Boston  Blockaded"  was  evidently  drawing  to  a 
close.  These  heights  commanded  the  bay,  and  also  Nook's 

*  "  A  chandelier  is  constructed  of  one  sill  ten  feet  long  and  six  inches  square, 
•with  two  posts  five  feet  long,  of  the  same  size,  framed  into  the  sill  five  feet  apart, 
each  supported  by  a  brace  on  the  outside.  They  are  placed  on  the  ground  at  a 
proper  distance  from  each  other — the  open  space  between  the  posts  is  then  filled 
with  bundles  of  fascines,  strongly  picketed  together." 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  143 

Hill,  which  overlooked  Boston.  Something  must  be  done 
at  once.  Dorchester  Heights  had  become  a  second  Bunker 
Hill,  and  the  rebels  must  be  driven  from  there,  or  the  city 
abandoned.  Washington,  not  doubting  that  the  enemy  would 
storm  his  works,  had,  therefore,  planned  an  assault  on  the 
city  from  the  opposite  side,  when  it  took  place.  Two  col- 
umns of  two  thousand  men  each,  commanded  by  Greene 
and  Sullivan,  the  whole  under  Putnam,  were,  at  a  given 
signal,  to  embark  in  boats  near  the  mouth  of  Charles  river, 
and  pushing  rapidly  forward  effect  a  landing  under  the  fire 
of  three  floating  batteries,  and  fall  furiously  on  the  enemy. 

Howe  prepared  at  once  to  storm  the  American  works, 
and  commanded  Earl  Percy  with  three  thousand  men  to 
attack  them  without  delay.  Washington  anticipating  this, 
galloped  to  the  heights  and  gazed  with  kindling  eye  on  the 
preparations  for  battle  going  on  in  the  enemy's  camp.  He 
did  not  doubt  for  a  moment  of  winning  a  glorious  victory — 
the  soldiers  were  in  high  spirits,  and  their  courage  was 
roused  to  a  sterner  pitch  when  he  rode  along  their  lines  and 
bade  them  remember  that  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the 
"  Boston  Massacre."  The  firm  resolve  to  revenge  that 
bloody  act,  mingled  with  the  more  exalted  purpose  to  strike 
for  liberty. 

The  three  thousand  men,  with  Percy  at  their  head,  were 
inarched  to  the  shore  with  orders  to  rendezvous  at  Castle 
William,  and  when  night  came  on  mount  to  the  assault. 
The  hills  around  were  covered  with  spectators,  and  thou- 
sands of  hearts  beat  anxiously  in  view  of  the  approaching 
conflict.  But  toward  night  a  heavy  wind  arose,  rendering 
it  impossible  for  the  boats  to  land,  and  while  the  troops 
stood  waiting  the  orders  to  advance,  the  night  came  on  dark 
and  stormy.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  they  returned 
drenched  and  chilled  to  camp.  All  next  day  the  storm 
continued  to  rage,  and  a  council  of  Avar  being  called,,  it  was 
resolved  to  abandon  the  assault  and  evacuate  the  town. 


144  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Washington  disappointed  in  not  bringing  on  an  engagement 
returned  to  camp,  and  Howe  began  to  make  preparations 
for  his  departure.  The  inhabitants  were  now  filled  with 
alarm  lest  the  latter  should  destroy  the  town,  and  a  com- 
mittee was  appointed  to  wait  on  him  to  intercede  for  the 
place.  Howe  very  gladly  promised  to  spare  Boston  if 
Washington  would  spare  him  and  the  fleet,  and  though  no 
agreement  was  entered  into,  it  was  understood  on  both  sides 
that  the  evacuation  was  to  be  effected  quietly  and  without 
molestation.  Washington,  however,  was  determined  not  to 
trust  to  promises,  and  commenced  planting  (March  9th)  his 
batteries  on  Dorchester  Neck,  so  as  to  command  more  com- 
pletely the  enemy's  shipping.  The  British  discerned  the 
movement,  and  immediately  turned  their  heavy  guns  upon 
the  Americans.  The  latter  replied  from  all  their  batteries, 
and  all  night  long  it  thundered  and  flamed  around  Boston, 
sending  terror  to  the  inhabitants,  who,  thinking  it  to  be  the 
signal  for  a  final  battle,  expected  every  moment  to  see  the 
city  in  a  blaze.  But  in  the  morning  Howe  ordered  the  bat- 
teries to  cease  playing,  and  went  on  with  the  preparations 
for  embarking  the  troops. 

At  length,  on  Sunday  the  17th,  the  army  numbering,  all 
told,  about  11,000  men,  together  with  1,000  loyalists  who 
fled,  leaving  all  their  property  behind  them,  were  taken 
aboard  the  transports,  whose  sails  were  soon  moving  down 
the  bay.  The  American  army  no  sooner  saw  the  enemy 
in  motion,  than  it  paraded  at  Cambridge,  and  led  by  Put- 
nam entered  the  deserted  works  of  the  British.  Their  loud 
hurrahs  were  heard  by  the  retreating  enemy,  and  all  was 
exultation.  The  next  day  Washington  accompanied  by  his 
staff  rode  into  town,  and  was  received  with  acclamations  by 
the  inhabitants. 

The  English  fleet  did  not  at  first  withdraw  entirely,  but 
lay  for  some  time  in  the  Nantucket  Road,  causing  Wash- 
ington much  anxiety  respecting  its  intentions.  "  What 


the  Ohio. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  147 

they  are  doing  there,"  said  he,  "  the  Lord  only  knows." 
Cramped  and  confined  in  the  over-crowded  ships,  the  Tories 
suffered  severely.  Some  enlisted  as  seamen,  and  all  paid 
dear  for  their  desertion  of  the  cause  of  freedom.  Wash- 
ington was  far  from  being  pained  to  hear  of  their  misera- 
ble condition,  and  in  describing  it  said,  "  Two  have  done 
what  a  greater  number  ought  to  have  done  long  ago,  com- 
mitted suicide."  These  misguided  men  had  supposed  the 
British  army  invincible.  "  When  the  order  issued  therefore 
for  embarking  the  troops,  no  electric  shock,  no  explosion  of 
thunder,  in  a  word,  not  the  last  trump  could  have  struck 
them  with  greater  consternation." 

The  moment  Washington  got  possession  of  Boston  his 
amazing  energies  began  Jio  develop  themselves.  Believing 
that  the  next  demonstration  of  the  enemy  would  be  against 
New  York,  he  hurried  troops  off  to  defend  it.  Even  before 
the  fleet  had  left  he  dispatched  thither  a  regiment  and 
several  companies  of  riflemen,  and  wrote  to  Governor 
Trumbull  of  Connecticut,  to  throw  two  thousand  men  with- 
out delay  into  the  town,  and  also  to  the  Committee  of  Safety 
of  New  Jersey  to  add  an  additional  thousand,  that  in  case 
of  a  sudden  attack  the  city  might  hold  out  till  he  could 
arrive  with  the  army.  Officers,  in  the  meantime,  were  sent 
forward  to  collect  vessels  at  Norwich  to  receive  the 
troops  the  moment  they  should  arrive.  He  also  dispatched 
artillerists  and  ammunition  to  General  Thomas,  who  had 
been  appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  in  Canada, 
with  a  promise  of  larger  reinforcements  soon  to  follow.  He 
knew  that  the  evacuation  of  Boston  would  be  the  signal  for 
active  operations  all  along  the  coast,  and  he  ordered  all  his 
necessary  camp  equipage  to  be  got  ready  immediately,  say- 
ing, "  after  I  have  once  got  into  a  tent  I  shall  not  soon  quit 
it."  No  sooner  had  the  enemy  disappeared  entirely  than 
the  whole  army  was  set  in  motion  for  New  York.  Nearly 
thirty  thousand  troops  had  assembled  around  Boston,  over 


148  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

twenty  thousand  of  whom  belonged  to  the  army  proper. 
Twenty-seven  hundred  of  these  were  on  the  sick  list — the 
remainder,  with  the  exception  of  five  regiments  under  Lin- 
coln left  for  the  defense  of  Boston,  were  soon  streaming 
southward.  Division  followed  division  in  rapid  succession. 
The  inhabitants  gazed  with  alarm  on  the  swiftly  marching 
columns  and  long  trains  of  artillery  and  baggage-wagons  as 
they  rolled  heavily  onward,  foretelling  strife  and  carnage  to 
come.  Washington  with  his  guard  outstripped  the  slow 
march  of  his  army,  and  passing  through  Providence,  Nor- 
wich, and  New  London,  embarked  on  board  a  vessel  and 
reached  New  York  on  the  13th  of  April.  He  immediately 
inspected  the  works  erected  by  Lee,  and  also  by  Putnam, 
who  had  succeeded  the  former  in  command  of  the  city, 
passed  from  fort  to  fort  directing  the  different  points  to  be 
occupied,  and  then  calmly  viewed  his  position.  The  twilight 
shadows  of  the  gloomy  night  that  was  so  soon  to  close 
around  the  American  cause  were  already  creeping  over  the 
land.  The  disasters  that  had  befallen  our  troops  in  the 
north  had  extinguished  the  hopes  of  securing  the  coopera- 
tion of  the  Canadians,  and  at  the  same  time  encouraged  the 
Indians  to  break  from  their  neutrality,  so  that  a  dark  and 
threatening  cloud  was  rising  along  our  unprotected  frontiers. 
The  troops  were  without  blankets,  and  Congress  without 
money,  and  worse  than  all  without  unity  of  feeling  and 
purpose. 

Sending  off  more  troops  into  Canada,  Washington  has- 
tened to  Philadelphia,  and  though  filled  with  anguish  at  the 
dissensions,  timidity,  and  despondency  that  reigned  in  Con- 
gress, took  courage  when  he  found  a  large  majorit}7"  with 
him  in  insisting  on  a  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  war.  A 
resolution  was  hurried  through  to  raise  thirteen  thousand 
eight  hundred  militia,*  and  a  flying  camp  of  ten  thousand 
more,  from  Pennsylvania,  Maryland,  and  Delaware. 

*  From  New  York,  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  and  New  Jersey 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  149 

In  the  meantime  the  Virginia  Convention  passed  a  bold 
resolution,  recommending  Congress  to  declare  the  colonies 
free  and  independent.  "  This  is  a  noble  vote,"  said  Wash- 
ington when  he  heard  of  it ;  "  many  members  of  Congress, 
in  short  the  whole  provinces,  are  feeding  themselves  with 
the  dainty  food  of  reconciliation,  but  things  have  come  to 
such  a  pass  that  we  have  nothing  more  to  expect  from  the 
justice  of  Great  Britain."  The  leaders  of  the  people  must 
not  delude  themselves  and  others  with  pleasing  hopes  and 
dreams,  but  look  facts  in  the  face,  and  prepare  for  the  worst. 
In  no  other  way  can  energy  of  action  be  secured.  "  One 
and  all,"  said  he,  "  must  enter  the  contest  with  the  full  be- 
lief 'that  he  must  conquer  or  submit  to  unconditional  terms, 
such  as  confiscation,  hanging,  and  the  like,"  "  et  ceteras  well  to 
be  considered,  however  disagreeable. 

The  plan  of  the  campaign  on  the  part  of  the  British  had 
now  begun  to  assume  a  definite  form.  Howe  was  to  attack 
New  York,  ascend  the  Hudson,  and  meet  an  army  from 
Canada,  thus  cutting  the  provinces  in  two,  while  Clinton 
should  occupy  the  southern  seaports,  driving  the  Americans 
back  to  the  interior.  It  was  also  known  that  mercenary 
troops  were  on  the  way,  and  the  name  of  Hessian  became 
a  spell-word  with  which  to  conjure  up  shapes  of  evil. 

Washington  was  absent  fifteen  days.  On  his  return  to 
New  York,  he  pushed  forward  the  preparations  for  receiving 
the  enemy  with  all  possible  dispatch.  Gondolas,  boats,  etc., 
were  built  to  defend  the  Narrows,  below  which  the  English 
ships  had  been  driven  by  the  American  batteries,  and  New 
York  soon  assumed  a  formidable  appearance.  The  news, 
however,  from  the"  north  and  south  grew  more  and  more 
discouraging.  Lee  wrote  from  the  south,  over  which  he 
had  been  placed,  that  he  was  "like  a  dog  in  a  dancing 
school,"  and  did  not  know  "where  to  turn  himself  or 
where  to  fix  himself."  The  country  was  so  intersected  by 
navigable  streams  to  which  the  British  could  fly  at  any  mo- 


150  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

ment  on  their  "  canvas  wings,"  that  he  was  left  to  conjec- 
ture alone  where  the  first  onset  would  be  made,  while  the 
Committee  of  Safety  of  Virginia,  unlike  its  convention,  was 
full  of  hesitation  and  doubt.  "  Page,  Lee,  Mercer,  and 
Payne,"  said  he,  "  are  indeed  exceptions,  but  from  Pendle- 
ton,  Blond,  the  Treasurer  and  Company  libera  nos  Domine." 
From  the  north  came  tidings  still  more  disheartening.  The 
army  was  being  driven  in  disgrace  from  Canada.  The 
miserable  remains  of  the  armament  that  was  to  conquer  it, 
lay  without  tents  to  cover  them  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  one-half  sick  with  small-pox,  fever,  and  dysentery, 
over  whose  bodies  myriads  of  loathsome  vermin  crawled 
unmolested ;  the  other  half  disorganized  and  desponding, 
and  with  scarcely  sufficient  energy  to  cast  their  dead  com- 
rades into  the  two  huge  pits  dug  for  their  reception.  Such 
was  the  news  that  ever  and  anon  was  brought  to  Washing- 
ton, keeping  his  mind  on  the  stretch  from  morning  till 
night,  and  tasking  his  powers  to  their  utmost  limit.  In  the 
mean  time  forty  sail  [June  30]  were  reported  in  sight  of 
the  Hook.  To  add  to  all  these  embarassments  and  trials, 
treason  and  disaffection  were  in  his  very  midst.  Governor 
Try  on,  who  remained  on  board  ship  down  the  bay,  plotted 
unceasingly  to  detach  the  inhabitants  and  soldiers  from  the 
cause  of  the  colonies.  By  seductive  promises,  rewards,  and 
deceptions,  he  corrupted  both,  and  finally  penetrated  even 
into  Washington's  guard,  and  set  on  foot  a  conspiracy  to 
seize  Washington  himself.  He  expected  in  a  short  time  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  head  rebel  on  the  deck  of 
his  ship.  The  plot,  however,  was  revealed,  and  one  of  the 
guard  was  arrested,  tried  by  court-martial,  and  hung — a 
warning  to  all  who  meditated  treason. 

While  events  were  thus  passing  around  New  York,  Con- 
gress, having  assembled  in  Philadelphia,  were  engaged  in  the 
momentous  question  of  a  Declaration  of  Independence.  Many 
of  the  separate  provinces  had  already  acted  on  the  subject. 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  151 

North  Carolina  took  the  first  step,  and  passed  a  vote  in- 
structing her  delegate  to  concur  with  the  other  colonies  in 
declaring  independence.  Massachusetts  followed.  Virginia 
next  wheeled  into  the  ranks,  then  Connecticut  and  New 
Hampshire.  Maryland  opposed  it;  while  the  delegates  from 
the  remaining  provinces  were  instructed  to  unite  with  the 
majority,  or  left  free  to  act  as  their  judgments  might  dic- 
tate. Thus  instructed,  the  representatives  of  the  people 
assembled  in  solemn  conclave,  and  long  and  anxiously  sur- 
veyed the  perilous  ground  on  which  they  were  treading. 
To  "recede  was  now  impossible — to  go  on  seemed  fraught 
with  terrible  consequences.  The  struggle  had  not  been  for 
independence,  but  for  the  security  of  rights,  in  which  they 
had  the  sympathy  and  aid  of  some  of  the  wisest  statesmen 
of  England.  To  declare  themselves  free  would  cut  them 
off  from  all  this  sympathy,  and  provoke  at  once  the  entire 
power  of  England  against  them.  The  result  of  the  long 
and  fearful  conflict  that  must  follow  was  more  than  doubt- 
ful. For  twenty  days  Congress  was  tossed  on  a  sea  of  per- 
plexity. At  length  Richard  Henry  Lee,  shaking  off  the 
fetters  that  galled  his  noble  spirit,  [June  7th]  arose  and  in 
a  clear,  deliberate  tone,  every  accent  of  which  rung  to  the 
farthest  extremity  of  the  silent  hall,  read,  "  Resolved,  that 
these  United  Colonies  are  and  ou^ht  to  he  free  and  independent 
States,  and  that  all  political  connection  between  us  and  the  State 
of  Great  Britain  is  and  ought  to  be  totally  dissolved."  John 
Adams,  in  whose  soul  glowed  the  burning  future,  seconded 
it  in  a  speech  so  full  of  impassioned  fervor,  thrilling  elo- 
quence and  prophetic  power,  that  Congress  was  carried  away 
as  by  a  resistless  wave  before  it. 

The  die  was  cast,  and  every  man  was  now  compelled  to 
meet  the  dreadful  issue.  Still  weighed  down  with  fear, 
Congress  directed  the  secretary  to  omit  in  the  journal  the 
names  of  the  bold  mover  and  seconder  of  this  resolution, 
lest  they  should  be  selected  as  the  special  objects  of  ven- 


152  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

geance  by  Great  Britain.  The  resolution  was  made  the  spe- 
cial question  for  next  day,  but  remained  untouched  for  three 
days,  and  was  finally  deferred  to  the  1st  of  July,  to  allow 
a  committee  appointed  for  that  purpose  to  draft  a  declaration 
of  independence.  When  the  day  arrived,  the  declaration 
was  taken  up  and  debated  article  by  article.  The  discussion 
continued  for  three  days  and  was  characterized  by  great 
excitement;  at  length  the  various  sections  having  been  gone 
through  with,  the  next  day,  July  4th,  1776,  was  appointed 
for  final  action.  It  was  soon  known  throughout  the  city, 
and  in  the  morning,  before  Congress  assembled,  the  streets 
were  filled  with  excited  men,  some  gathered  in  groups  en- 
gaged in  eager  discussion,  and  others  moving  toward  the 
State  House.  All  business  was  forgotten  in  the  momentous 
crisis  the  country  had  now  reached.  No  sooner  had  the 
members  taken  their  seats,  than  the  multitude  gathered 
in  a  dense  mass  around  the  entrance.  The  old  bell-man 
mounted  to  the  belfry,  to  be  ready  to  proclaim  the  joyful 
tidings  of  freedom  so  soon  as  the  final  vote  had  passed.  A 
bright-eyed  boy  was  stationed  below  to  give  the  signal. 
Around  that  bell,  brought  from  England,  had  been  cast  more 
than  twenty  years  before  the  prophetic  sentence,  "  PROCLAIM 
LIBERTY  THROUGHOUT  ALL  THE  LAND  UNTO  ALL  THE  INHABITANTS 
THEREOF."  Although  its  loud  clang  had  often  sounded  over 
the  city,  the  proclamation  engraved  on  its  iron  lip  had  never 
yet  been  spoken  aloud.  It  was  expected  that  the  final  vote 
would  be  taken  without  any  delay,  but  hour  after  hour  wore 
on  and  no  report  came  from  that  mysterious  hall,  where  the 
fate  of  a  continent  was  being  settled.  The  multitude  grew 
impatient — the  old  bell-man  leaned  over  the  railing,  strain- 
ing his  eyes  downward,  till  his  heart  misgave  him  and  hope 
yielded  to  fear.  But  at  length,  at  two  o'clock,  the  door  of 
the  hall  opened,  and  a  voice  exclaimed,  "  It  has  passed!" 
The  word  leaped  like  lightning  from  lip  to  lip,  followed  by 
huzzas  that  shook  the  building.  The  boy-sentinel  turned 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  153 

to  the  belfry,  clapped  his  hands,  and  shouted  "  Ring — ring!" 
The  desponding  bell- man,  electrified  into  life  by  the  joyful 
news,  seized  the  iron  tongue  and  hurled  it  backward  and 
forward,  with  a  clang  that  startled  every  heart  in  Philadel- 
phia like  a  bugle  blast.  "  Clang — clang"  it  resounded  on, 
ever  higher  and  clearer  and  more  joyous,  blending  in  its 
deep  and  thrilling  vibrations,  and  proclaiming  in  long  and 
loud  accents  over  all  the  land  the  glorious  motto  that  encir- 
cled it.  Glad  messengers  caught  the  tidings  as  it  floated 
out  on  the  air  and  sped  off  in  every  direction,  to  bear  it  on- 
ward. When  the  news  reached  New  York,  the  bells  were 
set  ringing,  and  the  excited  multitude  surging  hither  and 
thither  at  length  gathered  around  the  Bowling  Green,  and 
seizing  the  leaden  equestrian  statue  of  George  III.  which 
stood  there,  tore  it  into  fragments.*  When  the  declaration 
arrived  in  Boston,  the  people  gathered  to  old  Faneuil  Hall 
to  hear  it  read,  and  as  the  last  sentence  fell  from  the  lips 
of  the  reader  a  loud  shout  went  up,  and  soon  from  every 
fortified  height  and  every  battery  the  thunder  of  cannon 
reechoed  the  joy. 

Washington  drew  up  his  army  and  had- the  declaration 
read  to  each  brigade  in  turn.  The  acclamations  with  which 
it  was  received  showed  how  thoroughly  the  troops  were 
penetrated  with  the  principle  of  Liberty.  In  the  mean  time 
events  were  thickening  around  New  York.  The  British 
fleet  from  Halifax  had  arrived,  and  while  Philadelphia  was 
yet  shaking  to  the  shouts  of  the  multitude,  on  the  wooded 
heights  of  Staten  Island  the  last  of  the  troops  under  General 
Howe  were  assembling,  preparatory  to  a  descent  on  the 
city  below.  On  the  12th  July,  taking  advantage  of  a 
strong  south  wind,  two  English  ships  of  war  stretched 
under  a  press  of  canvas  up  the  North  river.  The  mo- 
ment they  came  within  range  of  the  batteries  on  shore 

V  <-J 

a  rapid  fire  was  opened  on  them.     But  the  men,  protected 

*This  was  afterward  run  into  bullets  and  hurled  against  bis  majesty's  troops. 


154  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

by  sand-bags,  remained  unharmed,  while  the  vessels  being 
under  rapid  headway  soon  passed  out  of  danger,  and  taking 
position  in  Tappan  sea,  lay  beyond  the  reach  of  shot  from 
shore,  thus  proving  what  Washington  said  he  "  had  long 
most  religiously  believed,  that  a  vessel  with  a  brisk  wind 
and  strong  tide  cannot,  unless  by  chance  shot,  be  stopped 
by  a  battery  on  shore." 

Washington,  knowing  that  the  only  way  the  British  could 
reach  the  city  landward  was  by  Long  Island,  along  the 
shores  of  which  they  could  at  any  time  disembark  their 
troops,  stretched  a  cordon  of  works  from  Wallabout  Bay 
across  Brooklyn  Heights,  down  to  Gowan's  Cove,  the  chief 
fortifications  being  on  the  Heights.  At  each  extremity, 
and  where  they  touched  the  water,  batteries  were  placed, 
to  prevent  ships  going  up  the  East  river.  General  Howe 
in  the  mean  time  remained  tranquil  in  his  head  quarters  on 
Staten  Island,  waiting  for  reinforcements  from  England, 
before  he  ventured  on  an  attack.  Washington  occupied  the 
long  interval  that  elapsed  in  throwing  up  works  at  Kins- 
bridge,  and  erecting  forts  Washington  and  Lee,  between 
which,  across  the  river,  were  stretched  chevaux  de  frise  and 
hulks  of  vessels,  sunk  to  prevent  the  British  fleet  from 
ascending  and  outflanking  him,  and  in  establishing  redoubts 
along  the  Hudson  and  the  East  rivers. 

The  two  ships  that  had  gone  up  the  Hudson  with  their 
tenders,  kept  cruising  below  the  Highlands,  taking  sound- 
ings, and  effectually  dividing  the  northern  and  southern 
army. 

At  length  Lord  Howe  joined  his  brother,  having  been 
sent  as  royal  commissioner,  with  terms  of  reconciliation,  or, 
as  Washington  said,  "  to  dispense  pardons  to  repenting  sin- 
ners." These,  however,  were  so  utterly  unsatisfactory  that 
thev  could  not  be  entertained  for  a  moment.  He  also  sent 
a  letter  to  Washington  with  a  flag,  which  the  guard-boats 
detained  till  the  will  of  the  American  general  could  be 


Christening  the  Liberty  Tree. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  157 

ascertained.  Colonel  Reed  was  immediately  s  ;nt  down  to 
meet  the  flag,  whon  the  officer  in  charge  of  it  handed  him 
a  letter  directed  to  "  George  "Washington,  Esq."  Reed 
assured  him  that  there  was  no  such  man  in  the  American 
army,  and  refused  to  take  charge  of  it,  and  the  flag  was 
compelled  to  return.  A  few  days  after  another  letter  with 
the  same  superscription  was  sent  and  met  the  same  recep- 
tion. General  Howe  then  dispatched  his  adjutant  general 
to  Washington's  quarters,  bearing  a  letter  directed  "  To 
George  Washington,  Esq.,  etc.,  etc.,  etc."  The  ad- 
jutant addressed  Washington  as  his  "  excellency,"  which 
certainly  was  a  great  concession  to  the  head  rebel  of  the 
colonies,  and  said  that  General  Howe  regretted  exceedingly 
that  the  mode  of  address  was  offensive,  as  no  insult  had 
been  intended,  for  both  Lord  and  General  Howe  "  held  his 
person  and  character  in  the  highest  esteem."  To  meet  all 
objections  as  to  rank  or  title  the  et  ceteras  had  been  affixed, 
which,  like  the  Italian  Tante  grazie,  meant  just  as  much  as 
you  chose  to  imagine.  But  Washington  declared  that  he 
would  not  receive  as  a  private  person  any  letter  "  relating 
to  his  public  station,"  and  that  a  letter  without  some  in- 
dication in  its  address  of  its  public  character  must  neces- 
sarily be  considered  private.  After  much  expenditure  of 
courtesy  on  both  sides,  the  adjutant,  stubbornly  refusing 
to  give  any  interpretation  to  the  et  ceteras,  returned  to 
General  Howe,  who  at  length,  in  view  of  the  momentous 
results  at  stake,  ventured  to  break  through  this  punctilio, 
and  address  his  letter  to  "  General  Washington."  For  this 
extraordinary  stretch  of  his  powers  as  royal  commissioner, 
he,  in  his  dispatches  home,  said  he  hoped  his  majesty 
would  not  be  offended.  The  change  of  the  mode  of  the 
address,  however,  did  not  effect  a  reconciliation  with  the 
mother  country,  though  so  great  a  sacrifice  might  seem  to 
merit  some  reward. 

In  the  mean  time  various  gallant  attempts  had  been  made 


158  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

to  capture  the  two  English  ships  in  Tappan  Bay,  and  though 
unsuccessful,  one  tender  had  been  taken,  towed  ashore,  and 
burned.  Alarmed  at  these  repeated  attacks,  they  took  ad- 
vantage of  a  strong  tide  and  northerly  wind  to  return, 
running  the  gauntlet  of  the  batteries  and  the  riflemen  on 
shore  in  gallant  style,  hurling  their  grape-shot  as  they  swept 
on.  They  succeeded  in  joining  the  fleet  in  safety,  though 
many  an  ugly  rent  gave  indications  of  what  might  be  ex- 
pected should  a  whole  fleet  attempt  to  pass. 

At  length,  by  the  middle  of  August,  the  British  rein- 
forcements had  all  arrived,  swelling  the  entire  army  to  some 
twenty-five  thousand  men,  supported  by  a  powerful  fleet. 
Against  this  formidable  array  Washington  could  not  bring 
a  single  ship,  and  only  eleven  thousand  one  hundred  men, 
a  large  part  of  whom  were  raw  militia.*  Added  to  all  this  < 
tremendous  preponderance  of  force,  made  still  more  effec- 
tive by  a  covering  fleet,  the  whole  army  was  well  supplied 
with  every  thing  necessary  to  success,  while  the  American 
troops  being  scattered  along  from  Kinsbridge  to  Brooklyn, 
a  space  of  fifteen  miles,  was  miserably  equipped,  without 
discipline,  and  at  this  very  juncture  torn  assunder  by 
jealousies  and  bitter  feuds,  often  breaking  out  into  open 
animosity.  Washington,  expecting  an  attack  daily,  strove 
to  allay  this  discord,  and  partially  succeeded — still  his  posi- 
tion was  extremely  critical,  and  it  was  hoping  against  rea- 
son to  dream  of  saving  New  York. 

But  the  news  of  Moultrie's  gallant  defense  of  the 
"  slaughter-pen"  as  Lee  in  derision  termed  it,  on  Sullivan's 
Island,  in  Charleston  harbor,  reawakened  confidence  and 
kindled  fond  anticipations  in  the  hearts  of  many  that  a 
similar  fate  awaited  the  enemy  around  New  York.  The 
salvation  of  the  city,  however,  was  only  a  secondary  con- 
sideration— with  its  fall  the  route  to  Albany  would,  in  all 

*  The  army  nominally  consisted  of  25,537— but  3,368  were  sick,  97  absent  on 
furlough,  and  2,940  on  command. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  159 

probability,  be  opened  to  tbe  British,  and  the  northern 
army,  now  retreating  from  Canada,  would  be  crushed  mid- 
way, and  all  the  eastern  provinces  cut  off  from  their  north- 
ern brethren.  This  stroke  would  give  the  finishing  blow 
to  the  union  of  the  colonies,  leaving  each  victim  to  fall 
alone. 


1GO  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  British  land  on  Long  Island— Sickness  of  Greene — The  Battle— Defeat  of  Sul- 
livan and  Stirling — Masterly  Retreat  to  New  York — Causes  of  Failure — New  York 
abandoned — Retreat  of  Washington  to  Harlern  Heights — Landing  of  the  British 
at  Kip's  Bay — Poltroonery  of  the  Americans  and  rage  of  Washington — His 
severe  Order  of  the  Day — Remarks  on  this  Conduct  of  Washington — Narrow 
Escape  of  Putnam  with  his  Division — Skirmish  between  two  Detachments  and 
Death  of  Knowlton — Manoeuvre  of  Howe  and  Battle  of  Chatterton's  Hill — Re- 
treat of  Washington— Fall  of  Fort  Washington. 

AT  length,  August  22d,  it  was  announced  that  the  British 
were  landing  on  Long  Island,  between  the  Narrows  and 
Sandy  Hook.  The  plan  originally  was  to  bombard  the  city, 
but  this  had  been  abandoned,  and  an  attack  by  land  re- 
solved upon.  General  Greene,  to  whom  the  works  on  Long 
Island  had  been  intrusted,  and  who  was  doubtless  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  every  locality,  was  at  this  critical  moment 
prostrated  by  a  bilious  fever,  and  carried  to  New  York. 
Putnam  succeeded  him  in  the  command,  but,  from  some 
cause  or  other,  did  not  seem  to  think  his  duties  extended 
beyond  the  lines. 

Between  the  plain  on  which  the  British  landed  and  the 
intrenchments  of  the  Americans,  stretched  a  thickly  wood- 
ed hill,  traversed  by  only  three  roads,  on  each  of  which 
redoubts  had  been  thrown  up  to  check  the  advance  of  the 
enemy.  But  one  of  these,  the  Bedford  road,  which  led 
straight  up  to  the  American  works,  was  left  wholly  un- 
guarded. Sullivan  commanded  without  the  lines  in  this 
direction,  and  it  seems  incomprehensible  that  any  general 
could  commit  such  a  strange  oversight  in  presence  of  the 
enemy.  Washington  had  given  express  orders  to  have  all 
these  passes  well  guarded,  but  the  fact  that  Greene  was  ex- 
pected to  bo  well  enough  to  resume  his  command  before  the 
attack  commenced,  prevented  the  appointment  of  an  officer 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  161 

in  his  place,  in  time  to  allow  him  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  ground,  while  Sullivan,  Putnam,  and  Stirling 
seemed  wholly  ignorant  of  the  exact  duties  required  of 
them.  Besides,  the  universal  belief  that  this  land  de- 
monstration was  only  a  feint  to  draw  off  the  troops  from 
the  city,  on  which  the  grand  attack,  by  water,  would  be 
made,  may  have  caused  the  officers  in  charge  to  be  less 
solicitous  about  the  defenses  on  the  island. 

The  English,  ten  thousand  strong,  with  an  artillery  train 
of  forty  pieces,  took  up  their  line  of  march  on  the  warm 
August  evening,  (26th,)  and  slowly  approached  the  wooded 
heights  before  them.  Howe  accompanied  the  right  wing 
commanded  by  Clinton,  Cornwallis,  and  Percy,  and  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  stood  on  the  summit,  and  looked 
down  over  the  plain  stretching  to  Brooklyn.  Grant,  com- 
manding the  left  wing,  moved  along  near  the  water's  edge, 
toward  Go  wan  us  bay,  while  the  old  and  veteran  De  Heister, 
fully  restored  from  the  effects  of  his  three  months'  voyage 
by  liberal  potations  of  hock,  led  the  centre,  composed  of 
Hessians,  against  the  redoubts  defended  by  Sullivan  in  per- 
son. The  centre  and  left  of  the  army  were  ordered  only  to 
skirmish  with  the  enemy  till  they  heard  the  guns  of  Clin- 
ton on  the  right,  when  they  were  to  press  to  the  assault  at 
once,  and  prevent  reinforcements  from  being  concentrated 
at  any  single  point.  With  the  first  sound  of  artillery,  Put- 
nam sent  off  reinforcements  to  support  both  Sullivan  and 
Stirling.  The  latter  having  been  ordered  to  defend  the 
coast  road,  took  position  at  daybreak,  in  the  hills  which  now 
form  Greenwood  Cemetery. 

In  the  meantime  Clinton  had  descended  from  the  hills  to 
the  Bedford  Plains,  and  opened  his  fire  on  Sullivan's  left. 
This  was  the  signal  for  De  Heister,  who  immediately  or- 
dered Count  Donop  with  his  veteran  Hessians  to  storm  the 
redoubt  in  front,  and  carry  it  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet, 
while  he,  with  the  main  body,  would  advance  to  his  support. 


162  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

The  battle  was  in  reality  already  won  by  Clinton,  who  now 
completely  outflanked  Sullivan.  The  latter  met  the  on- 
set in  front  with  his  accustomed  bravery,  and  as  the 
Hessians  poured,  with  their  wild  German  war-cry,  to  the 
assault,  mowed  them  down  with  the  steady  volleys  of  his 
handful  of  resolute  men.  But  the  firing  on  his  flank 
rapidly  advancing  nearer,  threatened  momentarily  to  cut 
him  off  from  the  lines  at  Brooklyn,  and  he  reluctantly  gave 
the  orders  to  retreat.  His  small  force  however  had  scarcely 
reached  the  foot  of  the  slope  on  which  they  had  been  posted, 
when  they  were  greeted  by  the  blast  of  bugles,  as  the 
British  dragoons  came  galloping  up  the  road  in  rear. 

His  retreat  was  now  cut  off,  and  he  threw  himself  into  a 
piece  of  wood  for  protection.  But  the  loud  shouts  and 
gleaming  bayonets  of  the  Hessians  as  they  swarmed  through 
the  green  foliage,  showed  that  this  was  no  place  of  shelter, 
and  the  now  surrounded  Americans  again  emerged  into  the 
open  field,  only  to  be  trampled  down  by  the  cavalry,  and 
charged  by  the  infantry,  which  had  completely  blocked  up 
the  way  of  escape.  Driven  again  to  the  woods  for  shelter, 
they  were  bayoneted  by  the  Hessians,  who,  refusing  quar- 
ter, fought  with  the  ferocity  of  tigers.  Thus  backward 
and  forward  they  were  hunted  by  the  hostile  ranks,  until  a 
portion,  maddened  into  desperation,  burst  with  one  fierce 
effort  through  the  barrier  of  steel  that  girdled  them,  and 
reached  the  main  army  in  safety.  The  remainder,  with 
Sullivan,  were  taken  prisoners. 

All  this  time  Stirling,  ignorant  how  the  battle  was  going, 
firmly  maintained  his  position  against  Grant.  But  Clinton 
had  no  sooner  disposed  of  the  American  left,  than  he  dis- 
patched Cornwallis  across  the  country  to  take  the  former  in 
rear,  and  execute  over  again  the  manoeuvre  that  had  de- 
stroyed Sullivan.  This  British  officer  advanced  till  within 
a  short  distance  of  Stirling,  when  he  fired  two  cannon  shot, 
the  signal  before  agreed  upon  for  Grant  to  move  to  the  as- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  163 

sault.  The  latter  then  gave  the  order  to  advance.  Pressed 
in  front  and  rear  by  an  overwhelming  force,  Stirling  saw  at 
a  glance  his  desperate  position.  The  only  chance  of  saving 
any  part  of  his  force  was,  with  a  small  band  of  resolute 
men  to  keep  Cornwallis  employed,  while  the  main  body, 
fording  Gowanus  creek  lower  down,  could  gain  the  flank 
of  the  enemy  and  escape  to  Fort  Putnam,  on  Brooklyn 
Heights.  The  tide  was  fast  rising,  and  what  was  done 
must  be  done  quickly.  Calling  around  him  a  portion  of 
Smallwood's  glorious  regiment  of  Marylanders,  composed 
almost  entirely  of  young  men  of  rank  and  wealth,  he 
hurled  them  with  such  terrible  impetuosity  on  the  British 
grenadiers,  that  the  latter  recoiled  with  amazement  from 
the  shock.  Flushed  however  with  the  previous  easy  vic- 
tory, and  disdaining  to  yield  to  a  band  of  undisciplined 
rebels,  they  rallied  to  the  attack,  and  the  conflict  became 
close  and  murderous.  But  these  gallant  young  men,  each 
one  a  hero,  pressed  so  sternly  and  resolutely  into  the  fire, 
that  they  bore  down  all  opposition,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
open  combat,  rolled  back  the  veterans  of  England.  The 
steadfast  Delawares  stood,  with  their  rent  colors  flying,  and 
let  the  artillery  of  Grant  plough  through  them,  disdaining 
to  stir  till  ordered  to  retire.  The  fighting  here  was  des- 
perate. Young  Callender,  who  had  been  cashiered  for 
cowardice  at  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  afterward 
entered  the  service  as  a  volunteer,  seeing  the  captain  and 
lieutenant  of  the  company  of  artillery  to  which  he  belonged 
fall,  took  command,  and  with  the  determination  to  wipe  out 
with  his  life  blood  the  disgrace  that  had  fallen  on  him,  dis- 
dained to  surrender,  fighting  his  pieces  to  the  last.  Even 
when  the  British  infantry  were  charging  over  his  guns  he 
never  flinched.  A  British  officer,  struck  with  admiration 
at  his  noble,  gallant  bearing,  knocked  up  the  bayonets  al- 
ready pointed  at  his  heart,  and  spared  his  life.  Though 
outnumbered  more  than  three  to  one,  Stirling,  with  his 


164  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

hero-band,  steadily  pushed  back  Cornwallis,  till  the  latter 
was  heavily  reinforced.  The  order  to  wheel  off  to  the  left 
and  escape  across  the  marsh  was  then  given.  A  part  suc- 
ceeded in  escaping,  and  swimming  a  small  creek  reached 
Fort  Putnam  in  safety.  The  remainder,  and  among  them 
Lord  Stirling,  surrendered  themselves  prisoners  of  war. 

Washington,  as  the  sound  of  the  heavy  cannonading 
broke  over  the  city,  hastened  to  the  shore,  and  leaping 
into  a  boat  manned  by  strong  rowers,  was  soon  on  the 
Brooklyn  side.  Galloping  up  the  Heights,  he  cast  a  hurried 
glance  over  the  plains  beyond.  As  he  saw  Sullivan  com- 
pletely cut  off,  and  that  Stirling,  though  from  the  heavy 
cannonading  evidently  still  maintaining  his  ground,  must 
soon  inevitably  share  the  fate  of  the  former,  a  cry  of  an- 
guish burst  from  his  lips.  The  day  was  lost  beyond  re- 
demption, and  some  of  his  noblest  troops  gone  forever. 
All  this  time  Greene  lay  tossing  on  his  feverish  bed,  a  prey 
to  the  most  painful  anxiety.  At  length,  as  the  news 
reached  him  that  Smallwood's — his  favorite  regiment — was 
cut  to  pieces,  he  groaned  aloud,  and  bursting  into  tears,  ex- 
claimed— "  Gracious  God,  to  be  confined  at  such  a  time  !" 

Thus  ended  the  first  battle  between  the  army  under 
Washington  and  the  enemy.  Nearly  twelve  hundred  men, 
or  a  quarter  of  the  entire  force  engaged,  had  been  slain  or 
captured,  a  portion  of  them  the  elite  of  the  army.  Among 
the  prisoners  were  Generals  Sullivan,  Stirling,  and  Wood- 
hull.  It  was  extraordinary  that  so  many  escaped.  But  the 
patches  of  wood  and  thickly  scattered  hills  furnished  con- 
cealment to  a  great  many  detached  parties,  that  in  a  more 
open  field  or  one  better  known  to  the  enemy  would  inevita- 
bly have  been  captured.  The  manoeuvre  of  Howe  was 
completely  successful,  and  deserved  even  a  better  reward 
than  it  received. 

The  junction  of  the  various  divisions  of  the  British 
army  being  effected  soon  after  the  defeat  of  the  Americans, 


jDuchf.'s  l-'rayer  ui  <,'i 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  167 

the  whole  advanced  to  within  six  hundred  yards  of  the 
works  on  Brooklyn  Heights.  Excited  by  the  easy  victory, 
the  troops  demanded  to  be  led  to  the  assault  at  once.  If  it 
had  been  permitted  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  the  over- 
whelming numbers  of  the  British  would  have  proved  too 
resistless  for  even  the  strong  works  behind  which  Putnam 
lay.  But  Howe,  ignorant  of  the  force  opposed  to  him,  did 
not  wish  to  risk  all  he  had  gained  by  an  uncertain,  despe- 
rate onset,  and  commenced  planting  his  batteries,  evidently 
designing  to  advance  by  regular  approaches.  Washington, 
who  had  watched  with  the  keenest  anxiety  the  rapid  con- 
centration of  the  host  before  him,  with  its  long  lines  of 
gleaming  bayonets  and  heavy  trains  of  artillery,  saw  with 
inexpressible  delight  this  determination  of  Howe.  Time 
would  now  be  given  to  reflect  upon  his  situation  and  de- 
termine his  course.  If  he  should  resolve  to  fight  it  out 
where  he  was,  he  could  bring  over  reinforcements ;  if  to 
retreat,  he  might,  by  great  exertions  and  skillful  manage- 
ment, save  perhaps  the  army. 

That  night  the  Americans  slept  but  little.  Washington 
had  dispatched  couriers  to  General  Mifflin,  at  Kingsbridge, 
to  hasten  down  with  a  thousand  men.  These,  soon  after 
daylight,  were  seen  crossing  the  river  to  Wallabout,  where 
they  took  post.  The  morning  dawned  dark  and  gloomy, 
and  as  soon  as  the  American  works  could  be  distinctly  seen, 
the  British  opened  on  them  with  their  heavy  guns,  and 
shortly  after,  the  sharp  rattle  of  musketry  was  heard  as  the 
outposts  came  in  collision.  The  heavens  continued  to  gather 
blacker  and  more  sombre,  and  soon  after  mid-day  the  rain 
came  down  in  torrents.  In  a  short  time  the  fields  were 
flooded,  and  presented  a  picturesque  appearance,  dotted  with 
the  white  tents  of  the  enemy,  into  which  they  crept  for  shel- 
ter, but  the  discouraged,  discomfited  patriots  had  no  tents  or 
barracks,  and  stood  drenched  to  the  skin.  The  night  brought 
impenetrable  darkness,  for  a  heavy  fog  slowly  settled  on 


168  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

sea  and  land,  through  which  broke  only  the  muffled  tread 
or  low  call  of  the  sentinel. 

Adjutant-General  Reed,  Mifflin  and  Colonel  Grayson  had 
been  sent  out  during  the  afternoon  to  reconnoitre,  and  just 
before  sunset,  as  they  stood  looking  seaward,  a  sudden  gust 
of  wind,  like  a  friendly  hand,  lifted  for  a  moment  the  fog 
that  lay  over  the  British  vessels  within  the  Narrows,  and 
revealed  to  them  boats  filled  with  men,  passing  from  ship 
to  ship,  and  all  the  preparations  for  some  great  and  com- 
bined movement.  The  fleet  had  been  directed  to  act  in 
concert  with  the  land- force,  and  attacking  the  batteries  on 
shore,  pass  up  the  East  river,  and  so  separate  the  main 
American  army  in  New  York  from  that  of  Brooklyn.  But 
the  "  stars  fought  against  Sisera,"  for  a  strong  east  wind 
surged  all  day  down  the  East  river,  holding  back  the  ships 
with  its  unseen  hand. 

The  movement  on  board  the  vessels  being  reported  to 
Washington,  a  council  of  war  was  called,  and  it  was  unani- 
mously resolved  to  retreat  to  New  York.  The  fog  that 
covered  the  island  effectually  concealed  the  movements  of 
the  Americans,  and  at  eight  o'clock  the  soldiers  were  pa- 
raded, and  began  their  silent  march  toward  the  ferry  at  the 
foot  of  Fulton  street.  But  the  strong  north-easter  which  had 
buffeted  back  the  British  fleet,  was  now,  with  an  ebb  tide, 
sending  such  a  furious  current  seaward  that  the  boats  could 
not  be  launched.  At  length,  about  eleven  o'clock,  the  wind 
changed  to  the  north-west  and  blew  violently.  The  troops 
were  then  embarked  in  the  fleet  of  boats  prepared  for  their 
reception,  and  passed  silently  and  swiftly  from  shore  to 
shore.  By  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  whole  nine 
thousand,  with  all  their  munitions  of  war,  except  the  heavy 
artillery,  were  safe  in  New  York.  Washington  stood  the 
long  and  gusty  night  on  the  Brooklyn  side,  watching  de- 
tachment after  detachment  disappearing  in  the  gloom,  and 
as  the  last  boat  left  the  land  he  also  stepped  in,  and  with  a 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  169 

world  of  care  lifted  from  his  heart,  crossed  over  to  the  city. 
For  nearly  forty-eight  hours  he  had  not  closed  his  eyes,  and 
been  a  great  part  of  the  time  in  the  saddle,  superintending 
and  directing  every  thing,  and  exhibited  a  skill,  energy  and 
power  seldom  witnessed  in  the  oldest  and  most  renowned 
commanders. 

The  battle  of  Long  Island  has  given  rise  to  much  dis- 
cussion, and  various  explanations  have  been  offered  and 
excuses  rendered  of  the  sad  failure.  No  doubt  there  would 
have  been  more  and  severe  fighting  if  Greene  had  been  able 
to  hold  his  command.  No  doubt  Putnam  should  have  looked 
out  for  flank  movements,  but  he  was  good  only  for  fighting, 
and  knew  nothing  of  strategy.  No  doubt  Sullivan  should 
have  guarded  the  Jamaica  road,  or  urged  Putnam  to  do  it, 
but  he,  too,  had  yet  to  learn  the  duties  of  a  general  by  hard 
experience.  The  excuse  that  he  did  not  command  without 
the  lines  is  not  a  valid  one  for  his  neglect.  The  simple 
truth  is  the  battle  should  never  have  been  fought,  for  no 
precautions  could  have  changed  the  final  result.  The 
enemy  were  in  too  strong  force  for  the  American  army 
on  the  Brooklyn  side  to  resist  under  the  most  favorable  cir- 
cumstances that  could  have  been  anticipated.  But  to  abandon 
New  York  without  a  struggle  seemed  fraught  with  evil  con- 
sequences, and  it  could  not  be  defended  by  land  better  than 
where  the  stand  was  made.  Washington,  like  every  other 
general  officer,  was  compelled  to  leave  many  of  the  details 
on  which  a  battle  turns  to  the  efficiency  and  energy  of  his 
subordinates,  so  that  he  is  not  responsible  for  the  loose  way 
in  which  the  passes  were  defended.  The  great  error  probably 
lay  in  the  settled  conviction  that  the  land  attack  would  be 
only  partial,  and  the  main  assault  be  on  the  city  itself 
through  the  fleet.  Of  course  there  could  be  no  comparison 
between  the  military  knowledge  and  ability  of  the  British 
and  American  officers.  The  former,  many  of  them  had  had 
the  advantage,  not  merely  of  early  training,  but  of  large 


LTO  LIFE    OF    TV  AStllNGTON. 

experience  in  many  a  tedious  campaign,  on  the  continent  of 
Europe,  and  it  would  be  a  miracle  if  even  Washington  at 
the  outset,  could  not  be  outmanoeuvred  by  them,  when  the 
operations  were  on  an  extensive  scale.  But  he  was  an  apt 
scholar,  and  one  lesson  was  sufficient  for  a  lifetime,  and  in 
the  unexpected  vicissitudes  of  war,  when  tactics  had  to  be 
made  on  the  spot  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  case,  he 
showed  how  intellect  and  genius,  and  an  almost  infallible 
judgment,  could  triumph  over  obstacles  that  put  at  fault  the 
most  veteran  leaders. 

The  effect  of  this  defeat  on  the  American  army  was  most 
disastrous.  Despondency  and  despair  took  the  place  of  con- 
fidence and  hope.  The  hastily  collected  yeomanry  of  the 
colonies  had  done  good  battle  on  Bunker  Hill,  and  considered 
themselves  in  fact  the  victors,  and  when  a  regular  ap- 
pointed army,  with  Washington  at  its  head,  should  meet  the 
enemy  around  New  York,  a  glorious  triumph  was  confidently 
predicted.  But  in  this  first  battle  the  superiority  of  the 
enemy  was  made  apparent,  and  just  as  high  as  the  spirits 
of  the  troops  had  been  raised  previous  to  it  so  low  they  now 
sunk.  A  sudden  paralysis  seized  them,  and  nothing  but 
murmurings  and  complaints  were  heard.  The  burning  de- 
sire to  wipe  out  the  disgrace — the  courage  rising  with  in- 
creasing danger — the  stern  cheerful  rally  to  the  side  of 
their  afflicted  noble  commander,  were  all  wanting.  On  the 
contrary  the  militia  grew  insubordinate,  and  there,  right  in 
front  of  the  enemy,  while  his  strong  columns  were  gather- 
ing closer  and  darker  around  the  city,  began  to  disband  and 
march  away  to  their  homes.  Nearly  whole  regiments  at  a 
time,  half  ones,  and  by  companies,  they  filed  away,  heed- 
less of  the  remonstrances,  appeals,  and  threats  of  their 
officers.  In  the  very  crisis  of  affairs  the  whole  army 
threatened  to  be  disorganized.  Washington  looked  around 
him  in  dismay,  and  lost  all  confidence  in  his  troops.  He 
was  not  prepared  for  this  wholesale  desertion  in  the  hour  ot 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  171 

danger.  Inexperience,  want  of  discipline,  jealousies,  and 
rivalries,  were  evils  he  anticipated.  He  knew,  also,  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  keep  an  efficient  army  in  the  field 
on  the  short  enlistments  heretofore  practiced,  but  to  be  left 
alone  when  the  fate  of  the  largest  city  in  the  colonies  was 
depending,  was  a  catastrophe  against  which  no  foresight 
could  provide.  He  wrote  to  Congress  that  New  York  must 
be  abandoned  to  the  enemy,  and  a  council  of  war  was  im- 
mediately called  to  decide  on  the  course  best  to  be  pursued, 
which  came  to  the  same  decision.  A  bombardment  was 
hourly  expected,  and  Washington  issued  an  order  for  the  in- 
habitants to  leave,  and  soon  the  roads  leading  toward  Har- 
laem  were  crowded  with  fugitives,  while  hundreds  more  were 
seen  hurrying  across  the  river  to  the  Jersey  shore. 

In  the  council  of  war  it  was  proposed  by  some  to  set  the 
city  on  fire,  and  thus  prevent  the  British  from  making  it 
their  winter-quarters.  General  Greene  urged  this  measure, 
declaring  that  the  Tories  would  be  the  chief  sufferers,  as 
two-thirds  of  the  property  in  the  town  was  owned  by  them. 

In  the  meantime  the  plans  of  Lord  Howe  developed 
slowly.  He  had  requested  Congress  to  appoint  a  committee 
to  meet  him  on  Staten  Island,  and  consult  on  some  mode 
of  arranging  the  difficulties  between  the  colonies  and  mother 
country.  They  met,  but  the  views  of  the  two  parties  dif- 
fered so  completely  that  all  hopes  of  adjustment  were 
abandoned.  Howe  then  began  to  push  his  advances  on 
New  York.  The  whole  fleet  moved  up  into  the  harbor,  and 
soon  after  frigate  after  frigate  stood  up  the  East  river,  and 
on  the  15th  September,  three  men-of-war  swept  past  the 
batteries  along  the  Hudson,  and  lay-to  off  Bloomingdale. 
It  now  became  apparent  that  the  enemy  had  no  design  of 
bombarding  the  city,  and  thus  destroy  the  snug  quarters 
they  stood  so  much  in  need  of,  but  were  about  to  land  above, 
toward  Harlsem,  and  march  down  on  it  from  the  most 
unprotected  quarter.  Washington,  penetrating  their  design, 


172  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

hurried  off  his  baggage  and  sick  and  nine  thousand  men  to 
Kingsbridge  and  its  vicinity,  keeping  only  five  thousand  in 
the  city  to  act  as  the  exigencies  of  the  case  might  demand. 
Detachments  in  the  meantime  were  scattered  along  between 
New  York  and  Harlaem,  to  protect  the  batteries  and  resist 
the  attempts  of  the  British  to  land.  On  the  same  day,  at 
eleven  o'clock,  General  Clinton  began  to  land  his  troops  at 
Kip's  Bay,  under  the  heavy  fire  of  three  war  vessels.  The 
day  before  he  had  taken  possession  of  Montressor's  Island, 
and  Washington  aware  of  his  intentions,  ordered  the  two 
brigades  under  Parsons  and  Fellows  to  hasten  next  morning 
to  the  threatened  point,  while  he  galloped  away  to  Harlsem, 
where  he  spent  the  night.  In  the  forenoon,  while  busily 
superintending  the  works  on  the  Heights,  he  was  startled 
by  the  heavy  cannonading  from  the  vessels  of  war,  shaking 
the  very  ground  on  which  he  stood.  Instantly  vaulting  to 
his  saddle  he  rode  swiftly  along  the  road  toward  Kip's  Bay. 
As  he  approached  he  saw  to  his  utter  astonishment  the  men 
who  had  been  stationed  at  the  batteries  in  full  flight,  leaving 
their  pieces  unmanned,  although  not  seventy  of  the  enemy 
had  effected  a  landing.  Before  he  could  recover  from  the 
effect  of  this  shameful  spectacle,  he  beheld  the  two  bri- 
gades which  he  had  dispatched  to  the  support  of  the  batteries 
also  in  full  retreat,  despite  the  threats  and  commands  of 
their  officers.  Such  utter  poltroonery,  coming  as  it  did  on 
the  top  of  all  he  had  undergone  from  his  faithless  troops., 
and  placing  in  such  imminent  peril  Putnam  with  his  five 
thousand  troops,  proved  too  much  for  his  self-command,  and 
that  strong  soul  for  once  burst  the  restraints  with  which  he 
had  bound  it.  Dashing  into  the  midst  of  the  fugitives  he 
bade  them  in  a  voice  of  thunder  halt.  But  they  in  tbeir 
panic  did  not  hear  him,  or  if  they  did  paid  no  attention  to 
his  commands,  and  dividing  around  his  horse  streamed 
wildly  on.  Enraged  beyond  all  control,  lie  denounced  them 
with  a  fearful  oath  as  cowards,  and  drawing  his  pistols  snap- 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  173 

ped  them  in  their  faces,  and  cut  at  the  nearest  with  his 
sword.  Finding  all  his  efforts  vain,  and  filled  with 
ungovernable  rage,  he  dashed  his  chapeau  to  the  ground 
and  wheeled  all  alone  full  on  the  advancing  enemy,  ap- 
parently determined  in  that  terrible  paroxysm  of  passion 
and  of  scorn  not  to  survive  the  disgrace  of  his  army.  One  of 
his  aids,  however,  advancing  seized  the  bridle  of  his  horse 
and  turned  him  back.  The  hurricane  had  passed,  and  Wash- 
ington was  himself  again.  The  stern  indignation,  however, 
at  such  conduct  did  not  so  soon  subside,  and  five  days  after, 
in  the  order  of  the  day,  he  said,  "  Any  soldier  or  officer 
who  upon  the  approach  or  attack  of  the  enemy's  forces  by 
land  or  water,  shall  presume  to  turn  his  back  and  flee,  shall  be 
instantly  shot  down,  and  all  good  officers  are  hereby  authorized 
and  required  to  see  this  done,  that  the  brave  and  gallant*  part  of 
the  army  may  not  fall  a  sacrifice  to  the  base  and  cowardly  part, 
nor  share  their  disgrace  in  a  cowardly  and  unmanly  retreat." 

This  terrific  outburst  sheds  a  world  of  light  on  "Wash- 
ington's character,  and  instead  of  depreciating  it  invests  it 
with  tenfold  interest,  and  exhibits  in  a  more  striking  man- 
ner the  transcendent  qualities  he  possessed.  This  and  on~ 
or  two  similar  incidents  in  his  life  are  avoided  by  his  biogra- 
phers, or  merely  touched  upon,  as  though  it  were  a  pity  to 
speak  of  them  at  all,  and  common  charity  required  them  to 
be  concealed  as  much  as  possible.  They  even  feel  indigna- 
tion toward  those  who  give  them  prominence,  as  though  a 
personal  attack  were  made  on  the  "Father  of  his  Coun- 
try." These  men  are  wiser  than  their  Maker,  who  does 
not  hesitate  to  record  the  single  rash  act  of  Moses,  who  in 
his  rage  dashed  the  tables  of  the  law  to  the  earth,  or  the 
sinful  conduct  of  David,  the  chosen  of  Heaven,  or  the 
quarrel  of  the  Apostles.  They  forget  that  a  human  charac- 
ter is  grand  and  exalted  only  as  it  overcomes  evil,  and  the 
more  difficult  the  victory  the  greater  the  glory.  But  for 
such  terrible  outbursts  as  this  we  should  never  have  known 

10 


174  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

what  a  volcano  Washington  carried  in  his  bosom,  and  hence 
been  ignorant  of  the  marvelous  strength  of  character,  and 
the  religious  principle  which  kept  down  its  fires.  His  eulo- 
gists seem  to  think  that  the  more  unexcitable  and  passion- 
less they  make  him,  the  more  perfect  he  is,  forgetting  that 
moral  character  is  not  an  endowment,  but  the  result  of  effort 
and  education,  and  that  a  man  who  is  naturally  impetuous 
deserves  just  as  much  credit  for  being  hasty,  as  one  who  is 
naturally  quiet  and  immobile  for  being  placid  and  unruffled. 
It  is  the  man  who  "ruleth  his  spirit  that  is  greater  than  he 
that  taketh  a  city,"  not  one  who  has  no  spirit  to  rule.  It 
is  the  knowledge  of  Washington's  inflammable,  passionate 
nature,  contrasted  with  his  conduct  under  the  severest  trials 
long  continued,  under  injustice,  suspicion,  neglect,  desertion, 
abuse,  discomfiture,  and  defeat,  that  makes  us  regard  him 
with  unbounded  admiration  and  astonishment.  It  is  his 
amazing  self-control  that  fills  us  ever  with  fresh  wonder, 
and  yet  had  he  been  born  with  a  phlegmatic,  equable  tem- 
per, his  serenity  would  have  been  no  proof  of  this.  It  is 
the  arm  which  holds  back  the  torrent  that  exhibits  strength, 
not  that  which  rests  unmoved  in  the  tranquil  pool. 

The  moment  Washington  saw  the  British  had  effected  a 
landing,  he  dispatched  an  aid  to  General  Putnam  in  the  city, 
with  orders  to  fall  back  with  his  division,  as  speedily  as  possi- 
ble to  Harlsem  Heights.  Putnam  immediately  put  his  brigade 
in  motion,  followed  by  a  motley  multitude  of  women  and 
children,  with  loads  of  baggage  and  utensils,  hurrying  on 
with  loud  cries  after  the  retiring  columns.  It  was  a  hot 
sultry  day,  and  under  the  burning  sun  and  clouds  of  dust 
kicked  up  by  the  advance  regiments,  the  soldiers,  many  of 
them,  sunk  exhausted  by  the  road-side,  and  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  Not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost.  Clin- 
ton had  already  possession  of  the  main  road  along  the  East 
river,  so  that  Putnam  was  compelled  to  take  the  Blooming- 
dale  road,  across  which  the  three  frigates  that  had  passed  up 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  377 

the  Hudson  could  throw  their  heavy  metal .  The  disgrace- 
ful flight  at  Kip's  Bay  had  allowed  the  British  to  gain  so 
much  time  in  landing,  that  to  all  human  appearance  they 
could  stretch  a  cordon  entirely  across  the  island,  before 
Putnam  could  reach  Bloomingdale,  and  Washington  looked 
upon  him  and  his  entire  division  as  lost.  Putnam  thought 
so  too,  but  determined  not  to  despair  so  long  as  a  ray  of 
hope  remained,  and  hurried  on  his  flagging  columns  with 
all  the  energy  he  possessed.  Riding  from  front  to  rear  to 
encourage,  to  stimulate,  and  to  threaten,  he  galloped  back- 
ward and  forward  under  the  burning  sun,  his  horse  covered 
with  foam  and  dust,  and  every  lineament  of  his  bold  rough 
face  revealing  the  intense  anxiety  under  which  he  labored. 
A  Quaker  lady,  named  Murray,  occupied  at  that  time  Mur- 
ray Hill,  and  he  sent  to  her  to  delay  by  her  hospitality  as 
long  as  possible,  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  As  the  latter,  with  his 
staff,  passed  the  house  on  his  way  to  the  Bloomingdale  road, 
this  patriotic  lady  accosted  him  and  cordially  invited  him  to 
stop  and  take  a  glass  of  wine.  The  cool  refreshments  which 
followed,  were  most  acceptable  to  the  British  officers,  and  she 
detained  them  by  her  courtesies  till  her  negro  servant,  who 
had  been  stationed  on  the  top  of  the  house  to  watch  the 
American  army,  returned  and  made  the  sign  agreed  upon,  to 
indicate  it  was  beyond  danger.  A  portion  of  the  British 
troops  had  struck  it  at  right  angles,  and  a  severe  skirmish 
followed,  in  which  fifteen  Americans  were  killed,  and  two 
or  three  hundred  taken  prisoners,  but  the  main  body  had 
barely  slipped  by,  the  enemy's  line  closing  behind  them  as 
they  passed.  When  Clinton  emerged  from  Mrs.  Murray's 
house,  he  saw,  to  his  utter  mortification,  the  American  ban- 
ners fluttering  far  in  advance,  pointing  proudly  toward  the 
heights  on  which  was  drawn  up  the  rebel  forces.  As  dark- 
ness shut  in  the  scene,  the  weary  column  wound  up  the 
slope,  and  was  received  with  shouts  by  th?  whole  army, 
while  Washington  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  delight  at 


ITS  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

the  energy  and  skill  with  which  Putnam  had  brought  off 
his  troops.  In  the  meantime  the  whole  British  army  ad- 
vanced, and  at  night  encamped  near  the  American  works — 
their  lines  stretching  from  river  to  river,  and  supported  at 
each  extremity  by  ships  of  war.  Thus  passed  the  night  of 
the  fifteenth  of  September.  When  the  morning  drum,  roll- 
ing from  river  to  river,  awoke  the  two  armies,  Lord  Howe 
turned  his  glass  long  and  anxiously  on  the  American  works. 
Notwithstanding  the  easy  victories  he  had  obtained,  he  hesi- 
tated to  attack  a  position  so  well  chosen,  and  defended  as 
the  one  before  him.  Washington,  irritated  at  the  moral 
effect  produced  on  both  armies  by  the  dastardly  conduct  of 
his  troops,  was  anxious  to  remove  it,  if  possible,  and  re- 
solved to  attack  any  detachments  that  the  enemy  might 
send  forward.  During  the  day  several  parties  appeared  on 
the  plain  between  the  two  armies,  and  a  skirmish  followed. 
This  was  no  sooner  reported  to  Washington,  than  he  has- 
tened to  the  outposts  to  ascertain  the  number  and  purpose 
of  the  enemy.  While  he  was  examining  them,  Colonel 
Kn  owl  ton  came  in  and  reported  their  number  about  three 
hundred.  Washington  immediately  ordered  him  with  his 
rangers,  aided  by  Major  Leitch,  with  three  companies  of 
Virginians,  to  attempt  to  gain  their  rear  and  cut  them  off. 
At  the  same  time  he  directed  a  false  attack  to  be  made  in 
front,  to  distract  their  attention  from  the  real  point  of  dan- 
ger. The  British  detachment  seeing  the  party  approaching 
in  front,  retired  to  a  cover  of  bushes  and  a  fence.  Knowl- 
ton,  ignorant  of  this  change  of  position,  instead  of  gaining 
their  rear  as  he  expected,  came  suddenly  on  them  in  flank. 
Major  Leitch  immediately  advanced  gallantly  to  the  attack, 
but  fell  pierced  with  three  balls;  Knowlton,  hastening  to  his 
support,  was  also  shot  down.  The  troops,  however,  pressed 
fiercely  on,  and  a  reinforcement  coming  up,  charged  home 
so  resolutely,  that  the  enemy  broke  their  cover  and  fled  to 
the  open  plain.  Washington  fearing  that  the  British  would 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON  179 

send  out  a  large  reinforcement,  ordered  the  bugles  to  sound 
a  recall,  and  the  gallant  detachment  retired  to  their  posts 
with  the  loss  of  sixty  killed  and  wounded.  The  British 
acknowledged  ninety  killed  and  wounded.  The  death  of 
Colonel  Knovvlton,  however,  made  the  balance  of  loss  heavy 
against  the  Americans.  He  was  one  of  Putnam's  best  offi- 
cers. He  had  entered  service  when  but  sixteen  years  old, 
and  been  with  Putnam  in  some  of  his  hardest  battles  during 
the  French  war,  and  was  among  the  first  to  rally  to  his  old 
leader's  side,  after  the  skirmish  at  Lexington.  He  fought 
gallantly  at  Bunker  Hill  and  Long  Island,  and  was  an  officer 
of  great  promise.  He  fell  at  the  age  of  thirty-six,  on  the 
threshold  of  that  great  struggle  to  which  he  would  have 
given  a  clear  head  and  a  fearless  heart.  In  his  order  the 
next  day,  Washington  called  him  "  the  gallant  and  brave 
Knowlton,  who  would  have  been  an  honor  to  any  country." 

No  one  will  ever  know  what  he  suffered  during  his  retreat 
from  New  York  up  the  Island.  The  embarrassments  that 
overwhelmed  him  at  every  turn  were  enough  in  themselves 
to  crush  a  commander,  but  when  to  all  those  was  superadded 
utter  want  of  confidence  in  his  troops,  there  was  nothing 
left  on  which  to  fall  back.  Disasters  he  could  endure,  but 
with  soldiers  he  dared  not  trust  in  battle,  no  matter  how  in- 
ferior the  enemy  might  be  in  force,  that  run  away  from  even 
the  sound  of  cannon,  he  was  left  utterly  desolate.  In  a 
letter  to  his  brother,  speaking  of  the  anguish  that  weighed 
him  down  at  this  time,  he  said  he  would  not  again  undergo 
what  he  had  suffered  during  those  few  days  for  a  quarter  of 
a  million  of  dollars.  The  troops  not  only  became  cowards, 
but  robbers,  and  under  pretence  of  plundering  the  Tories, 
committed  violence  on  the  inhabitants  indiscriminately. 
Thirty-nine  lashes  being  the  extent  of  the  punishment 
allowed  by  the  orders  of  Congress,  the  culprits  treated  it  with 
contempt. 

Howe   was  anxious  to  bring  on  a  general  engagement 


180  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

without  assaulting  the  Americans  behind  their  works. 
Washington,  having  no  confidence  in  the  mass  of  his  troops, 
was  equally  determined  not  to  gratify  him,  and  the  two 
armies  lay  idly  looking  upon  each  other  for  three  weeks. 
Washington,  however,  improved  the  time  in  strengthening 
his  position.  At  length  Howe  determined  to  make  another 
effort  to  gain  the  American  rear,  and  sending  three  vessels 
of  war  up  the  Hudson,  which  passed  the  batteries  on  shore 
and  obstructions  in  the  channel  with  but  little  damage,  he 
embarked  his  troops  in  flat-bottomed  boats,  on  the  East 
river,  and  sailing  through  Hell  Gate,  landed  on  Throg's 
Neck.  Remaining  here  five  days,  he  reembarked,  and 
landing  at  Pell's  Point,  marched  to  the  high  grounds  near 
New  Ilochelle. 

The  next  morning  Washington,  who  had  been  kept 
strangely  ignorant  of  the  roads  and  topography  of  the  coun- 
try to  which  the  movements  of  the  armies  had  been  trans- 
ferred, sent  out  Colonel  Reed,  and  Rufus  Putnam  engineer 
in  chief,  with  a  foot  guard  of  twenty  men,  to  reconnoitre. 
Arriving  on  the  heights  of  East  Chester,  they  saw  a  small 
body  of  British,  but  could  obtain  no  intelligence — the  houses 
being  all  deserted.  Colonel  Reed  here  said  he  must  return 
to  attend  to  issuing  gsneral  orders.  Putnam  replied  that  as 
yet  they  had  made  no  discovery  of  consequence,  and  that 
if  he  went  back  he  had  better  take  the  guard  with  him.  As 
for  himself,  he  was  determined  to  proceed,  and  preferred  to 
go  alone.  Putnam  thus  relates  what  followed,  which  I 
transcribe  from  his  manuscript  journal,  as  it  throws  new 
light  on  this  portion  of  the  campaign. 

"  I  then  disguised  my  appearance  as  an  officer  as  far  as  I 
could,  and  set  out  on  the  road  to  White  Plains.  However,  I 
did  not  then  know  whore  White  Plains  was,  nor  where  the 
road  I  had  taken  would  carry  me.  I  had  gone  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  when  a  road  turned  off  to  the  right ;  I  followed  it 
perhaps  half  a  mile  and  came  to  a  house  where,  I  learned  from 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  181 

a  woman  that  the  road  led  to  New  Rochelle,  that  the  British 
were  there,  and  that  they  had  a  guard  at  a  house  in  sight. 
On  this  information  I  turned  and  pursued  my  route  towards 
White  Plains,  (the  houses  on  the  way  all  deserted,)  until  I 
came  within  three  or  four  miles  of  the  place.  Here  I  dis- 
covered a  house  a  little  ahead,  with  men  about  it.  By  my 
glass  I  found  they  were  not  British  soldiers.  However,  I  ap- 
proached them  with  caution.  I  called  for  some  oats  for  my 
horse,  sat  down  and  heard  them  chat  some  little  time,  when  I 
found  they  were  friends  to  the  cause  of  America,  and  then 
I  began  to  make  the  necessary  inquiries,  and  on  the  whole 
I  found  that  the  main  body  of  the  British  lay  at  New  Ro- 
chelle— from  thence  to  White  Plains  about  nine  miles — 
good  roads  and  in  general  level  open  country — that  at  White 
Plains  was  a  large  quantity  of  stores,  with  only  about  three 
hundred  militia  to  guard  them — that  the  British  had  a  de- 
tachment at  Mamaroneck,  only  six  miles  from  White  Plains, 
and  White  Plains  only  five  miles  from  the  North  river, 
where  lay  five  or  six  of  the  enemy's  ships  and  sloops,  ten- 
ders, &c. 

"  Having  made  these  discoveries,  I  set  out  on  my  re- 
turn— the  road  across  the  Bronx  was  my  intended  route, 
unless  I  found  the  British  there,  which  haply  they  were  not. 
But  I  found  Americans  on  the  heights  west  of  the  Bronx, 
who  had  arrived  there  after  I  passed  up.  I  found  it  to 
be  Lord  Stirling's  division.  It  was  now  after  sunset.  I 
gave  my  lord  a  short  account  of  my  discoveries,  took  some 
refreshments,  and  set  off  for  head-quarters,  by  the  way  of 
Phil'ps'  at  the  mouth  of  Saw-Mill  river,  a  road  I  had  never 
traveled.  Among  tory  inhabitants  and  in  the  night,  I  dare 
not  inquire  the  waj^ — but  providence  conducted  me.  I  ar- 
rived at  head-quarters,  near  Kingsbridge,  (a  distance  of 
about  ten  miles,)  about  nine  o'clock  at  night.  I  found  the 
General  alone,  and  reported  to  him  the  discoveries  I  bad 
nade,  with  a  sketch  of  the  country.  He  complained  very 


182  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

feelingly  of  the  gentlemen  from  New  York,  from  whom  he 
had  never  been  able  to  obtain  a  plan  of  the  country,  and 
said  that  from  their  information  he  had  ordered  the  stores 
to  White  Plains  as  a  place  of  security.  The  General  then 
sent  for  General  Greene  and  General  George  Clinton.  As 
soon  as  General  Clinton  came  in,  my  sketch  and  statement 
was  shown  to  him,  and  he  was  asked  if  the  situation  of 
those  places  was  as  I  had  reported.  General  Clinton  said 
they  were.  I  had  but  a  short  time  to  refresh  myself  and 
horse,  when  I  received  a  letter  from  the  General  with  orders 
to  proceed  immediately  to  Lord  Stirling's.  I  arrived  at  his 
quarters  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Oct.  21st,  1776. 
Lord  Stirling's  division  marched  before  daylight,  and  we 
arrived  at  White  Plains  about  nine  o'clock,  A.  M.,  and  thus 
was  the  American  army  saved  by  an  interposing  providence  from 
a  probable  total  destruction.  I  may  be  asked  wherein  this  par- 
ticular interposition  of  providence  appears ;  I  answer,  first, 
in  the  stupidity  of  the  British  General,  in  that  he  did  not 
early  in  the  morning  of  the  20th  send  a  detachment  and 
take  possession  of  the  post  and  stores  at  White  Plains,  for 
had  he  done  this,  we  must  then  have  fought  him  on  his  own 
terms,  and  such  disadvantageous  terms  on  our  part  as  hu- 
manly speaking,  must  have  proved  our  overthrow.  Again, 
when  I  parted  with  Colonel  Reed  on  the  20th,  as  before 
mentioned,  I  have  always  thought  I  was  moved  to  so  haz- 
ardous an  undertaking  by  foreign  influence.  On  my  route 
I  was  liable  to  meet  with  some  British  or  Tory  parties  who 
probably  would  have  made  me  a  prisoner,  (as  I  had  no 
knowledge  of  any  way  of  escape  across  the  Bronx  except 
the  one  I  came  out.)  Hence  I  was  induced  to  disguise  my- 
self by  taking  out  my  cockade,  looping  my  hat,  and  secret- 
ing rny  sword  and  pistols  under  my  loose  coat.  Had  1 
been  taken  under  this  disguise,  the  probability  is  I  should 
have  been  hanged  for  a  spy." 

In  these  few  words  the  religious  character  of  the  leaders 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  183 

of  the  revolution  appears  in  a  striking  light.  The  cause  in 
which  they  are  embarked  is  a  holy  one — it  is  under  God's 
protection,,  and  to  his  interference  is  ascribed  every  de- 
liverance from  threatened  destruction.  Like  Pharaoh  of 
old  the  heart  of  the  British  General  was  made  stupid,  so 
that  he  should  not  destroy  the  chosen  of  the  Lord ;  while  he, 
the  chief  engineer  of  the  army,  refers  to  the  same  divine 
source  the  promptings  which  made  him  under  the  circum- 
stances go  forward  alone,  and  ascertain  the  locality  of  the 
foe,  and  the  topography  of  the  country. 

As  a  matter  of  history  it  certainly  possesses  great  interest. 
With  the  British  army  at  White  Plains,  commanding  the 
roads  to  New  Rochelle  and  both  rivers,  and  only  five  miles 
between  him  and  the  North  river,  it  is  clear  as  noonday 
that  Washington  could  not  have  got  into  the  interior.  Shut 
up  on  the  north  and  south,  and  shut  up  by  ships  of  war  in 
both  rivers,  not  a  resource  would  have  been  left  him  but  to 
risk  all  in  a  pitched  battle,  and  that  too  not  in  an  open 
field,  but  on  heights,  which  gave  his  enemy  a  three-fold 
advantage.  The  result  of  such  a  battle  does  not  admit  of  a 
doubt — the  American  army  would  have  been  captured  and 
the  struggle  ended.  No  wonder  Putnam  saw  a  providence 
in  all  this. 

Washington,  now  thoroughly  alive  to  the  dangers  which 
threatened  him,  immediately  crossed  Kingsbridge,  and  occu- 
pying the  heights  on  the  west  side  of  the  river  Bronx,  ex- 
tended a  line  of  intrenched  camps  to  White  Plains,  thus 
rendering  it  impossible  for  the  British  commander  to  out- 
flank him.  The  intrenchrnents  ran  in  parallel  lines  about 
four  hundred  yards  apart,  and  terminated  at  a  small  lake. 

Howe,  at  length  on  the  29th,  began  to  move  across  the 
country,  evidently  determined  to  make  a  general  assault  on 
the  American  lines,  and  carry  their  iritrenchments  by  storm. 
From  the  heights  he  occupied,  Washington  could  see  them 
in  eight  massive  columns,  reddening  the  yellow  wheat  fields 


184  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

with  their  scarlet  uniforms,  while  groups  of  officers  collected 
here  and  there  betokened  earnest  consultation  as  to  the  best 
method  of  attack.  Their  progress  was  slow,  for  the  fields 
were  intersected  with  rough  stone  walls,  which  had  to  be 
pulled  down  to  make  way  for  the  heavy  artillery,  that  could 
with  difficulty  be  got  over  the  uneven  ground.  Besides, 
skirmishing  parties  took  advantage  of  these  walls  and 
clumps  of  bushes  to  annoy  the  advance  detachments  of  the 
British,  and  prevent  them  from  clearing  a  path  for  the 
artillery.  Slowly,  however,  and  steadily  the  heavy  columns 
swept  on,  while  Washington,  no  longer  placing  any  reliance 
on  the  militia,  awaited  with  much  misgiving  and  apprehen- 
sion the  final  shock. 

At  this  critical  juncture,  Howe,  paused  in  his  march  to 
carry  Chatterton's  Hill,  on  which  M'Dougall  had  been  placed 
with  fifteen  hundred  men,  assisted  by  Alexander  Hamilton. 
This  hill  was  separated  from  the  main  army  by  the  Bronx, 
which  flowed  in  front  of  the  American  lines.  The  stream 
however  was  fordable  here,  so  that  the  brigade  could  easily 
fall  back  on  the  main  body.  When  the  artillery  got  within 
range,  Howe  opened  at  once  with  twelve  or  fifteen  pieces, 
whose  echoes  rolled  like  thunder  along  the  heights,  carry- 
ing consternation  to  the  hearts  of  the  militia.  A  ball  having 
struck  a  soldier  in  the  thigh,  mangling  him  badly,  the  whole 
regiment  turned  and  fled.  Colonel  Haslet  could  not  induce 
his  troops  to  drag  forward  the  field  pieces,  so  as  to  sweep 
the  ascending  columns.  Only  one  was  manned,  and  this  so 
poorly  that  the  colonel  was  compelled  to  seize  the  drag- ropes 
himself.  As  they  were  trundling  it  slowly  to  the  front,  one 
of  the  enemy's  balls  struck  the  carnage,  scattering  the 
shot  in  every  direction  and  setting  fire  to  a  wad  of  tow. 
In  an  instant  the  piece  was  abandoned  in  terror.  Only 
one  man  had  the  courage  to  remain  and  tread  out  the  fire 
and  collect  the  shot.  By  dint  of  great  exertion  the  colonel 
was  able  to  fire  a  couple  of  shots,  when  the  men  ran  away, 


Scene  at  Stockbridge  on  receiving  news  of  the  Battle  of  Lf'xin^tuii 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  1ST 

dragging  their  single  cannon  after  them.  Hamilton,  how- 
ever, with  two  guns  in  battery,  coolly  swept  the  slope,  car- 
rying away  whole  platoons  that  attempted  to  ascend.  But 
the  militia  most  of  them  soon  disappeared,  leaving  M'Dou- 
gall  with  only  six  hundred  to  sustain  the  unequal  conflict. 
This  he  did  for  an  hour,  and  then  slowly  and  in  good  order, 
carrying  his  artillery  and  baggage  with  him,  retreated 
across  the  Bronx  and  took  post  within  the  lines.  The 
whole  British  force,  thirteen  thousand  strong,  now  drew  up 
within  long  cannon  shot  of  the  American  works,  and  an 
immediate  assault  was  expected.  All  night  long  the 
soldiers  stood  to  their  arms,  awaiting  the  order  to  advance. 
At  length  the  long  wished  for  October  morning  dawned, 
when  Howe  with  his  glass  examined  critically  the  American 
intrenchments.  They  seemed  so  formidable  and  the  posi- 
tion so  admirably  chosen,  that  he  concluded  to  defer  the 
attack  till  the  arrival  of  Lord  Percy,  already  on  his  way 
with  reinforcements.  Providence  here  interfered  again  for 
the  salvation  of  the  American  army.  Those  formidable 
breastworks,  which  reminded  Lord  Howe  of  Bunker  Hill 
and  Dorchester  Heights,  were  the  merest  sham,  being  com- 
posed of  nothing  but  corn  stalks  covered  with  sods  and  a 
little  loose  earth,  which  his  artillery  would  have  scattered 
like  a  bank  of  autumnal  foliage.  Had  he  advanced  directly 
on  them,  instead  of  stopping  to  carry  the  really  strong  posi- 
tion of  Chatterton's  Hill,  he  would  without  doubt  have  de- 
feated the  American  army.  Instead  of  this  he  had  brought 
on  only  a  partial  battle,  with  the  loss  of  some  three  or 
four  hundred  on  either  side. 

At  length,  on  the  evening  of  the  30th,  Lord  Percy  arrived 
with  four  battalions,  and  Howe  resolved  to  storm  the  Ameri- 
can works  early  in  the  morning.  Washington,  apprised  of 
the  arrival  of  this  heavy  reinforcement,  determined  at  once 
to  abandon  his  position  and  retire  farther  toward  the  High- 
lands. Bat  a  heavy  storm  of  wind  and  rain  set  in  that 


188  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

night  and  continued  all  next  day  and  evening,  suspending 
the  operations  of  both  armies.  Anticipating  the  necessity 
of  a  further  retreat,  Washington  had  cast  up  intrenchments 
upon  the  heights  of  North  Castle,  near  the  Croton  river,  and 
on  the  night  of  the  31st,  while  the  English  host  was  wrapt 
in  slumber,  and  the  fragmentary  clouds  were  sweeping 
darkly  over  the  Highlands,  through  which  the  north-west 
wind  rushed  with  the  roar  of  the  sea,  cautiously  led  his 
untrained  bands  out  of  the  encampment.  Some  one  had 
set  fire  to  the  village  of  White  Plains,  and  while  the  flames, 
fanned  by  the  fierce  blast,  wrapped  the  dwellings  and 
church,  and  shed  a  lurid  light  over  the  landscape,  Washing- 
ton was  rapidly  defiling  over  the  broken  country,  and  by 
morning  was  snug  in  his  new  position,  which  looked  down  a 
hundred  feet  on  the  Bronx  below. 

After  a  careful  examination  of  the  new  position  occupied 
by  Washington,  Howe  concluded  not  to  attack  him,  but 
return  to  New  York  and  push  his  operations  in  another 
quarter.  During  Washington's  retreat  Fort  Washington  had 
been  left  far  in  the  rear,  and  was  now  completely  cut  off 
from  the  main  army.  Colonel  Magaw  commanded  here, 
and  began  to  make  the  best  preparations  in  his  power  for 
defense.  Washington  considering  the  fort  no  longer  tena- 
ble urged  the  necessity  of  evacuating  it  at  once.  But  in  a 
full  council  of  war  it  was  decided  best  to  defend  the  place, 
and  although  Washington  as  cornmander-in-chief  had  power 
to  overrule  this  decision,  he  was  unwilling  to  incur  the 
responsibility  of  doing  so,  especially  as  future  results,  what- 
ever they  might  be,  could  in  no  way  prove  that  he  had 
acted  discreetly.  Had  things  been  reversed,  and  he  been 
in  favor  of  holding  the  fort,  and  when  the  council  opposed 
it,  overruled  their  decision,  then  the  fate  of  the  fort  would 
have  shown  whether  his  judgment  was  correct  or  not. 
Greene,  in  whom  he  had  great  confidence,  was  placed  in 
command  of  the  troops  in  that  quarter,  and  he  unhesita- 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  189 

tingly  declared  that  the  fort  could  and  should  be  held. 
Washington  therefore  left  the  whole  matter  discretionary 
with  him,  though  clearly  expressing  his  opinion  about  it. 

In  the  meantime,  while  the  British  army  were  closing 
around  this  place,  Washington  saw  that  after  its  fall  the 
next  move  would  in  all  probability  be  against  New  Jersey, 
and,  if  successful,  end  in  an  attack  on  Philadelphia.  He 
therefore  ordered  five  thousand  men  to  assemble  at  Hack- 
ensack,  to  be  under  his  immediate  command,  while  he  sepa- 
rated the  other  portion  of  the  army  into  two  divisions — 
one  under  Heath  to  occupy  both  sides  of  the  river  in  the 
Highlands  and  defend  its  passes — the  other,  four  thousand 
strong,  under  Lee,  to  keep  the  camp  near  White  Plains, 
and  to  act  as  circumstances  might  demand.  Washington 
having  visited  the  posts  in  the  Highlands,  hastened  to  Hack- 
ensack,  where  his  troops,  after  a  circuitous  march  of  sixty 
miles,  had  assembled.  Filled  with  anxiety  for  the  fate  of 
the  garrison  in  Fort  Washington,  he  hurried  back  to  Fort 
Lee,  nearly  opposite  on  the  Jersey  shore,  to  ascertain  how 
matters  stood.  It  was  late  at  night  when  he  arrived,  but 
leaping  into  a  boat  he  ordered  the  rowers  to  pull  him  across 
to  the  American  works.  When  part  way  over  he  met  a 
boat  containing  Putnam  and  Greene  returning,  who  reported 
the  garrison  in  high  spirits  and  fully  able  to  defend  the  fort. 
Washington,  though  still  unconvinced,  returned  with  them. 
The  next  morning  the  British  under  Knyphausen,  Lord 
Percy,  Colonels  Rail  and  Stirling,  advanced  against  the  fort 
on  three  different  sides  at  once,  and  though  Raulings  and 
Cadwallader  fought  like  lions,  yet  the  overpowering  numbers 
of  the  enemy  broke  down  all  resistance,  and  their  ascending 
shouts,  and  the  steadily  advancing  volleys,  soon  showed  that 
the  day  was  lost  to  the  Americans.  Washington,  from  Fort 
Lee,  surrounded  by  his  officers  and  with  Tom  Paine  by  his 
side,  stood  and  watched  through  his  glass  the  swiftly  march- 
ing columns.  To  the  eager  inquiries  of  how  the  battle  was 


190  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

going  he  only  turned  gloomily  away,  and  requesting  Greene 
and  Putnam  to  accompany  him,  leaped  into  a  boat  and 
crossing  over  ascended  the  heights  to  Morris'  house,  where 
with  painful  apprehension  he  scanned  more  narrowly  the 
movements  of  the  enemy.  While  watching  Cadwallader 
slowly  retreating  along  the  road  nearest  the  Hudson,  fight- 
ing desperately  as  he  retired,  he  saw  Col.  Stirling  advancing 
swiftly  across  where  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-Fifth  street 
now  is,  to  assail  him  in  flank.  Knowing  that  the  troops  would 
soon  be  all  driven  within  the  ramparts  of  the  fort,  and  the 
whole  surrounding  country  in  possession  of  the  British,  he 
hastened  to  his  boat  and  recrossed  to  Fort  Lee.  In  fifteen 
minutes  after  he  and  Greene  and  Putnam  had  left  Morris' 
house  the  British  troops  were  pouring  into  it.  Arriving  at 
Fort  Lee  he  dispatched  a  messenger  to  Magaw,  promising 
if  he  would  hold  out  till  night  he  would  bring  him  and  the 
garrison  off.  The  promise  came  too  late,  the  British  troops 
were  already  inundating  the  outer  works,  and  further  re- 
sistance could  end  only  in  a  massacre.  To  Howe's  second 
summons  to  surrender,  therefore,  Magaw  hauled  down  his 
flag.  Washington  from  morning  till  noon  had  gazed  with 
a  palpitating  heart  on  that  height,  and  whenever  the  wind 
for  a  moment  swept  away  the  smoke  that  curtained  it  in, 
and  revealed  the  flag  of  freedom  still  flying,  hope  would 
revive  in  spite  of  the  dark  aspect  affairs  were  assuming. 
But  at  length  as  the  firing  ceased  he  with  an  exclamation 
of  anguish  saw  that  banner  come  down,  and  the  British 
colors  go  up  in  its  place.  The  incessant  volleys  and  explo- 
sions of  artillery  had  died  away,  and  in  their  place  loud 
hurras  of  the  victorious  enemy  rung  over  the  water.  Al- 
though only  about  fifty  had  been  killed,  nearly  three  thou- 
sand were  taken  prisoners.  This  was  the  severest  blow 
that  had  yet  fallen  on  the  American  army,  and  crushed  for 
a  time  the  hopes  of  the  country.  Lee,  when  he  heard  of 
it,  wrote  to  Washington — "  Oh  general !  why  would  you  be 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  191 

overpersuaded  by  men  of  inferior  judgment  to  your  own  ? 
It  was  a  cursed  affair  ?"  It  was  a  bad  affair  enough,  and 
great  blame  rested  on  the  shoulders  of  Putnam  and  Greene, 
especially  on  those  of  the  latter.  He  commanded  there, 
and  was  supposed  to  know  all  about  the  locality  and  its 
capabilities  of  defense.  Greene  was  a  young  officer,  and 
wholly  inexperienced  in  the  art  of  war.  He  exfoliated 
rapidly  into  an  accomplished  officer,  and  here  learned  a  sad 
but  important  lesson — that  Try  skillful  manoeuvres  a  battle 
may  really  be  gained  before  a  shot  is  fired.  The  belief  that 
Fort  Washington,  under  the  circumstances,  could  be  held, 
was  a  delusion.  Its  fall  rendered  the  longer  occupation  of 
Fort  Lee  impossible,  and  Washington  ordered  it  to  be  im- 
mediately evacuated,  and  the  troops  that  occupied  it  to  join 
the  army  assembled  at  Hackensack. 


192  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  VH 

Retreat  of  Washington  through  the  Jerseys — Disorganization  of  his  Army — Finally 
takes  post  beyond  the  Delaware,  near  Trenton — Unaccountable  apathy  of  the 
Enemy — Washington  takes  advantage  of  it — Reorganization  of  the  Army — Wash- 
ington resolves  to  march  on  Trenton— Passage  of  the  river — The  Attack — The 
Victory — March  on  Princeton — Astonishment  of  Cornwallis — Death  of  Colonel 
Rahl— The  effect  of  the  Victory  upon  the  Country — Poverty  of  the  Army — 
Robert  Morris,  the  noble  Financier. 

IN  the  meantime,  Howe  pushing  up  with  spirit  the  ad- 
vantage he  had  gained  with  six  thousand  men,  crossed  the 
Hudson  six  miles  above  Fort  Lee,  and  moved  rapidly  down 
upon  it.  Cornwallis,  who  had  command  of  this  division, 
pressed  forward  with  such  vigor  that  Washington  was  com- 
pelled to  leave  behind  all  his  heavy  cannon,  three  hundred 
tents,  baggage,  provisions,  and  stores  of  all  kind.  The 
Jersey  shore  being  entirely  commanded  by  the  British  men- 
of-war,  from  which  troops  could  be  landed  at  any  time, 
Washington  with  his  desponding,  almost  disorganized  army, 
drew  off  toward  the  Delaware.  The  militia,  wholly  dis- 
pirited, deserted  in  large  numbers — even  the  regulars  stole 
away,  so  that  Washington  soon  had  but  little  over  three 
thousand  men  with  whom  to  oppose  twenty  thousand.  He 
had  nothing  that  could  be  dignified  with  the  name  of 
cavalry,  while  the  enemy  was  well  supplied,  and  could  over- 
run the  whole  flat  country  through  which  his  course  now 
lay.  In  the  meantime  the  inhabitants,  despairing  of  the 
success  of  the  American  cause,  began  to  look  toward  the 
British  for  protection.  An  insurrection  was  breeding  in 
Monmouth,  to  quell  which  Washington  was  compelled  to 
detach  a  portion  of  his  troops.  The  Tories  took  heart, 
and  fell  without  fear  on  those  who  remained  true  to  the 
cause  of  freedom.  Encouraged  by  this  state  of  feeling 
among  the  inhabitants,  the  two  Howes  issued  a  proclama- 


LIFK    OF   WASHINGTON".  19P, 

tion,  in  which  pardon  was  promised  to  all  offenders  who 
would  within  sixty  days  submit  themselves  to  the 'royal 
authority.  Multitudes  obeyed,  and  with  an  army  falling  to 
pieces  through  its  own  demoralized  state,  in  the  midst  of  a 
disaffected  population,  pressed  by  an  overwhelming  victo- 
rious army,  Washington  saw  a  night  closing  around  him, 
through,  the  blackness  of  which  not  a  single  ray  shot  its 
cheering  light.  But  it  was  in  such  circumstances  as  these 
that  the  true  grandeur  of  his  character  appears.  Superior 
to  the  contagion  of  example,  he  neither  doubts  nor  falters. 
Rising  loftier  as  others  sink  in  despair,  moving  serener  the 
greater  the  agitation  becomes  around  him,  he  exhibits  a 
reserve  power  equal  to  any  emergency — a  steadfastness  of 
soul  that  nothing  earthly  can  shake. 

He  immediately  ordered  Lee,  by  forced  marches,  to  join 
him  ;  sent  to  General  Schuyler  to  forward  him  troops  from 
the  frontiers  of  Canada ;  called  on  Pennsylvania  to  assem- 
ble her  militia  if  she  would  save  Philadelphia,  and  on  the 
governor  of  New  Jersey,  to  furnish  him  with  troops,  if  he 
would  not  see  the  entire  province  swept  by  the  enemy. 
But  the  country  was  paralyzed,  and  with  his  feeble  band  he 
continued  to  retire  before  the  enemy.  Lee,  intent  on  deliver- 
ing some  bold  stroke  of  his  own,  and  thus  eclipse  Washing- 
ton, whom  the  provinces  began  to  suspect  of  inefficiency, 
refused  to  obey  the  orders  of  his  commander,  and  finally,  a 
victim  to  his  own  folly,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
thus  adding  another  to  the  list  of  calamities,  for  the  coun- 
try had  placed  great  reliance  in  his  skill  and  experience  as 
a  general. 

Driven  from  the  Hackensack,  Washington  took  post 
behind  the  Aqukannunk.  Pressed  hotly  by  Cornwallis,  he 
was  compelled  to  abandon  this  position  also,  and  retiring 
along  the  Raritan  halted  at  New  Brunswick.  Here  the 
Maryland  and  New  Jersey  troops  declared  the  time  of  their 
enlistment  had  expired,  and  shouldering  their  muskets,  left 

11 


194  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  camp  in  a  body.  Their  departure  shook  the  rest  of 
the  army,  and  it  required  all  of  Washington's  efforts  to  pre- 
vent it  from  disbanding  wholly.  Unable  to  offer  any 
resistance,  he  retreated  to  Trenton.  Here,  receiving  a  re- 

*  o 

inforcement  of  two  thousand  men  from  Philadelphia,  he 
began  to  assume  the  offensive ;  but  finding  Cornwallis  ad- 
vancing in  several  columns,  so  as  to  cut  off  his  retreat,  he 
crossed,  on  the  8th  of  December,  1776,  to  the  right  bank 
of  the  Delaware,  destroying  all  the  bridges  and  boats  after 
him.  Here  he  sat  down  knowing  it  was  the  last  stand  that 
could  be  made  between  the  enemy  and  Philadelphia. 

The  English  general  taking  up  his  head-quarters  at  Tren- 
ton extended  his  army  up  and  down  the  river,  but  made  no 
serious  demonstrations  to  cross.  He  neither  collected  boats, 
nor  materials  for  bridges,  nor  attempted  to  pass  by  means 
of  rafts.  A  sudden  and  unaccountable  apathy  seemed  to 
have  seized  him,  and  the  energy  with  which,  since  the 
taking  of  Fort  Washington,  he  had  pressed  the  American 
army,  and  which  threatened  to  crush  the  rebellion  at  once, 
deserted  him.  Nothing  was  easier  than  to  ford  the  river 
and  seize  Philadelphia,  and  compel  Washington  to  carry  out 
his  sublime  purpose,  "  retreat,  if  necessary,  beyond  the  Alle- 
ghanies." 

The  delay  of  the  British  here  enabled  Washington  to 
strengthen  his  army.  He  sent  Mifflin  and  Armstrong 
through  Pennsylvania,  rousing  the  patriotic  citizens  to  arms. 
Sullivan  joined  him  with  Lee's  division,  and  Gates  arrived 
with  four  regiments  from  Ticonderoga.  Still  the  prospect 
was  inexpressibly  gloomy.  Rhode  Island,  Long  Island, 
New  York,  nearly  all  the  Jerseys,  had  one  after  another 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  nothing  seemed 
able  to  resist  his  victorious  march. 

The  reinforcements,  however,  that  had  come  in  encouraged 
Washington  in  the  hope  that  he  might  yet  strike  a  blow 
which,  if  it  did  not  seriously  embarrass  his  adversaries, 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  195 

would  nevertheless  rekindle  hope  throughout  the  country. 
Although  the  force  under  him  was  inadequate  to  any  great 
movement,  something  must  be  done  before  the  winter  shut 
in,  or  spring  would  find  Congress  without  an  army,  and  the 
American  cause  without  defenders.  The  British  were  waiting 
only  for  cold  weather  to  bridge  the  Delaware  with  ice,  when 
they  would  cross ;  and,  crushing  all  opposition  by  their 
superior  force,  march  down  on  Philadelphia.  Though  the 
heavens  grew  dark  around  Washington,  and  fear  and  de- 
spondency weighed  down  the  firmest  hearts,  his  sublime 
faith  in  God  and  the  right  never  shook,  and  even  in  this 
hour  of  trial  and  of  gloom  he  lifted  his  voice  of  encourage- 
ment, declaring  he  saw  the  morning  beyond  it  all.  He  sent 
Putnam  to  Philadelphia  to  erect  defenses,  behind  which  the 
army  might,  if  driven  back  from  the  Delaware,  make  a 
desperate  stand  for  the  city. 

In  the  meantime  the  reorganization  of  the  army  on  the 
plan  adopted  by  a  Committee  of  Congress  and  Washington 
at  Harlsem  Heights,  was  carried  forward.*  Congress,  how- 
ever, at  this  time  retired  in  affright  to  Baltimore,  and  the 
Tories  of  Philadelphia,  embracing  nearly  all  the  Quakers, 
taking  courage,  rendered  Putnam's  situation  precarious. 

While  trouble  and  uncertainty  pervaded  both  Congress 
and  the  ariny,  Lord  Howe,  having  resigned  the  command  to 
Cornwallis,  retired  to  New  York,  where  he  remained  tran- 
quil, in  the  full  belief  that  an  easy  victory  awaited  him.  The 
latter  officer  having  lost  all  fear  of  the  American  troops, 
stretched  his  army  in  a  chain  of  cantonments,  from  Trenton 
to  Burlington,  and  also  retired  to  the  snugger  quarters  of 
New  York.  Colonel  Rahl,  with  fifteen  hundred  men,  was 

*  By  this  plan  all  the  continental  troops  were  to  constitute  one  grand  army  of 
eighty  battalions,  in  all  sixty  thousand  men.  To  induce  enlistments  during  the 
war  a  hounty  of  twenty  dollars  was  offered,  together  with  a  section  of  land,  to  be 
given  at  the  close  to  the  survivors,  or  to  the  family  of  him  who  had  fallen.  The 
amount  was  in  proportion  to  the  grade,  advancing  from  one  hundred  acres,  the  share 
of  a  common  soldier,  to  five  hundred,  that  of  a  colonel. 


196  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

stationed  at  Trenton ;  Count  Donop  occupied  Bordentown 
with  a  brigade  of  Hessians,  while  still  lower  down,  and 
within  twenty  miles  of  Philadelphia,  lay  another  corps. 
Other  portions  were  quartered  at  Amboy,  Brunswick,  and 
Princeton.  This  was  the  position  of  affairs  as  the  cold 
blasts  and  heavy  frosts  of  the  latter  part  of  December  began 
to  gather  the  ice  on  the  Delaware,  promising  soon  to  con- 
struct a  solid  bridge,  over  which  the  victorious  enemy  could 
march  without  resistance.  The  American  army,  thinly 
clad,  poorly  fed,  and  worse  housed,  presented  a  sorry  specta- 
cle as  it  paraded  on  the  frozen  ground,  amid  the  drifting 
snow-storm.  The  bands  of  music,  failed  to  stir  into  enthu- 
siasm the  blood  of  those  who  could  see  no  morning  beyond 
the  night  that  enveloped  them.  The  Tories  were  in  high 
spirits,  and  the  patriots  correspondingly  downcast  and  de- 
pressed. 

Washington,  firmly  resolved  to  smite  his  over-confident 
adversary,  if  fortune  would  give  but  the  faintest  promise  of 
success,  carefully  scrutinized  every  position,  and  pondered 
well  every  plan  suggested  to  his  mind.  The  fiery  Stark 
remarked  to  him  one  day,  "  You  have  depended  a  long-  time 
on  spades  and  pickaxes,  but  if  you  ever  wish  to  establish 
the  independence  of  the  country,  you  must  rely  on  fire- 
arms." "  That,"  replied  Washington,  "is  what  I  am  going  to 
do.  To-morrow  we  march  on  Trenton,  and  I  have  appointed 
you  to  command  the  advance-guard  of  the  left  wing."  He 
had  resolved  to  cross  the  Delaware  at  night,  and  surprise 
the  Hessians  at  Trenton.  Christmas  Eve  was  fixed  upon 
for  the  expedition,  because  he  knew  this  to  be  a'  time  of 
carnival  among  the  German  troops,  and  hoped  to  fall  upon 
them  overcome  with  wine  and  sleep.  The  Pennsylvania 
militia,  under  Cadwallader  and  Evvino-  the  former  stationed 

O7 

at  Bristol,  opposite  the  corps  at  Bordentown,  and  the  latter 
just  below  Trenton,  were  ordered  to  cross  at  the  same  time, 
and  by  a  simultaneous  attack,  confuse  and  distract  the 


Knox  filtering  Camp  with  Artillery. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON7. 

enemy.  Washington,  with  two  thousand  four  hundred  men, 
marched  to  McKonkey's  Ferry,  nine  miles  above  Trenton, 
and  at  dusk  began  to  cross.  It  was  an  hour  big  with  results 
to  the  cause  of  his  country,  and  he  felt  the  heavy  respon- 
sibility he  had  assumed.  He  was  calm  but  solemn,  and  as 
he  stood  dismounted  beside  his  horse  and  gazed  on  the  tur- 
bulent river,  adown  whose  bosom  the  ice,  which  the  sudden 
cold  had  formed,  was  angrily  drifting,  and  listened  to  its 
crushing,  grinding  sound  against  the  frozen  shores,  blending 
in  its  monotonous  roar  with  the  confused  tramp  of  the 
marching  columns,  and  heavy  roll  of  the  artillery  wagons, 
and  hoarse  orders  of  the  officers,  his  aspect  and  air  were 
those  of  one  who  felt  that  the  crisis  of  his  fate  had  come. 
He  was  about  to  put  a  large  and  almost  impassable  river 
across  the  only  way  of  retreat,  and  the  morning  dawn 
would  see  his  little  army  victorious,  or  annihilated,  and  his 
country  lifted  from  the  gloom  that  oppressed  it,  or  plunged 
still  deeper  into  the  abyss  of  despair.  As  he  thus  stood 
absorbed  in  thought  and  pressed  with  anxious  care,  Wilkin- 
son approached  him  with  a  letter  from  Gates.  Roused  from 
his  contemplation,  he  fixed  a  stern  look  on  the  officer,  and 
exclaimed,  "  What  a  time  is  this  to  hand  me  letters!" 

The  night  closed  in  dark  and  cold — the  wind  swept  in 
gusts  down  the  river,  while  the  rapidly  increasing  ice 
threatened  to  prevent  entirely  the  crossing  of  the  troops  in 
time  for  a  night  attack.  A  few  boats  reached  the  opposite 
shore,  when  a  blinding  snow  storm  set  in,  casting  such  utter 
darkness  on  the  "river,  that  those  which  followed  became 
lost,  and  drifted  about  in  the  gloom.  General  Knox,  who 
had  a  voice  like  a  trumpet,  stood  on  the  farther  shore,  and 
kept  hallooing  to  those  struggling  in  the  middle  of  the 
.stream,  and  thus  indicated  the  point  toward  which  they 
should  steer.  It  was  a  long  and  inconceivably  distressing 
night  to  Washington.  He  had  calculated  on  a  surprise,  but 
as  hour  after  hour  wore  away,  and  the  boats  entangled  in 


200  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

the  ice  delayed  their  arrival,  he  saw  that  this  on  which  he 
had  placed  his  chief  reliance,  must  be  abandoned.  His  po- 
sition grew  more  and  more  critical  every  moment,  Cadwal- 
lader  and  Ewing  might  have  crossed,  and  relying  on  his 
cooperation  attacked  the  enemy  alone  and  been  defeated, 
or  unable  to  cross  at  all,  left  him  unsupported  to  meet  in 
open  daylight  a  prepared  enemy,  whose  heavy  artillery 
could  effectually  sweep  every  street  up  which  his  untrained 
troops  might  attempt  to  advance.  For  nearly  twelve  hours 
he  watched  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware,  listening  to  the 
shouts  and  uproar  of  his  scattered  army,  floundering  in  the 
gloom,  and  though  an  eternity  seemed  to  intervene  between 
the  arrival  of  the  boats,  he  showed  no  irritation,  but  stood 
like  a  column  of  marble  amid  the  storm,  his  great  heart 
almost  bursting  with  anxiety,  and  yet  not  an  indication  of 
it  in  his  voice  and  bearing.  He  could  have  pushed  on  with 
less  men,  but  dared  not  advance  without  the  artillery,  which 
was  the  last  to  get  over.  This  at  length  arrived,  and  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  army  took  up  its  line  of 
march.  He  was  still  nine  miles  from  Trenton,  and  the 
whole  distance  to  be  made  against  a  storm  of  sleet  beating 
full  in  the  soldiers'  faces.  The  army  was  divided  into  two 
columns — one  under  Sullivan,  taking  the  road  along  the  bank, 
while  Washington,  in  person,  accompanied  by  Greene,  led 
the  other  by  the  Pennington  road  nearly  parallel  and  a  little 
farther  inland.  As  day  broke  dimly  over  the  .dreary  land- 
scape, Washington  saw  that  his  troops  were  suffering  severely 
from  the  fatiguing  work  of  the  night,  and  ordered  a  halt 
that  they  might  take  a  few  moments'  rest.  No  one,  how- 
ever, was  permitted  to  leave  the  ranks.  The  order  had 
scarcely  passed  down  the  line  before  every  man  was  leaning 
heavily  on  his  musket,  and  the  whole  column  standing  as 
if  suddenly  frozen  in  its  place,  while  the  storm  silently 
sifted  its  white  covering  over  all.  Many  were  but  half-clad, 
and  without  shoes  or  stockings  stood  shivering  on  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  201 

frozen  ground.  Only  a  short  respite,  however,  could  be 
given,  and  soon  the  order,  "FORWARD,"  passed  down  the 
ranks.  As  the  column  put  itself  in  motion,  Washington,  to 
his  surprise,  saw  one  portion  quietly  slip  away  from  the 
other,  leaving  it  standing  motionless  and  fast  asleep  i:i  its 
place.  It  was  with  difficulty  the  poor  fellows  could  be 
roused,  but  when,  not  long  after,  the  guns  of  the  advance- 
guard  broke  on  their  ears,  there  was  no  lack  of  wakefulness 
and  energy. 

Under  the  driving  sleet  many  of  the  muskets  of  Sulli- 
van's troops  became  wet  and  unfit  for  use.  0:i  making  the 
discovery,  he  dispatched  his  aid,  Colonel  Smith,  to  Wash- 
ington, stating  the  fact,  and  saying  that  he  could  depend  on 
nothing  but  the  bayonet.  Turning  suddenly  on  the  as- 
tonished officer,  Washington  thundered  in  his  ears :  "  Go 
back  sir,  immediately,  and  tell  General  Sullivan  to  MOVE  ON." 
In  relating  the  occurrence  afterward,  Colonel  Smith  said 
that  he  "  never  saw  a  face  so  awfully  sublime"  as  Washington's 
when  he  gave  that  stern  command.  All  the  lion  in  his 
nature  was  roused,  every  strong  faculty  had  been  summoned 
from  its  respose,  and  the  marble  calmness  of  his  demeanor 
was  like  that  strange  hush  of  nature  which  betokens  the 
approaching  storm.  Captain  Forest  moved  in  advance  with 
the  artillery,  and  Washington  rode  beside  him.  Passing  u 
countryman  chopping  wood  before  his  door,  the  latter 
pointed  to  Trenton,  now  dimly  looming  in  the  distance,  and 
asked  him  if  he  knew  where  the  Hessian  picket  lay.  The 
man  replied  he  did  not.  Said  Forest,  "  You  may  tell,  for 
it  is  Washington  who  addresses  you."  Overcome  with 
sudden  joy,  the  poor  man  lifted  up  his  bands  and  exclaimed, 
"  God  bless  and  prosper  you."  He  then  pointed  to  a  house 
hi  which  the  picket  lay,  and  to  a  tree  near  it,  where  the 
sentry  stood.  The  guns  were  then  unlimbered,  and  the 
whole  column  pressed  rapidly  forward.  Washington  still 
rode  in  advance  amid  the  artillery,  and  some  of  his  officers 


202  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

becoming  alarmed  for  his  safety,  urged  him  to  retire.  But 
he  paid  no  heed  to  their  remonstrances — it  was  not  a  time 
to  think  of  himself,  and  he  still  led  the  column,  and  was  just 
entering  King  street,  when  he  heard  the  thunder  of  Sulli- 
van's guns  in  another  direction,  as  Stark  broke  into  the 
town,  and  with  his  strong  battle-cry  roused  the  Hessians 
from  their  drunken  slum'bers.  Forest  then  opened  with  his 
artillery,  and  Washington,  watching  anxiously  the  effect 
of  each  shot,  pointed  out  the  different  objects  at  which  he 
wished  him  to  direct  his  aim.  All  now  was  confusion  and 
terror  in  the  enemy's  quarters.  The  roll  of  drums,  the 
shrill  blast  of  bugles  and  discordant  cries  of  "  to  arms,  to 
arms,"  rang  out  on  every  side.  Detached  companies  of 
dragoons  careering  through  the  street — officers  galloping 
almost  alone,  and  wildly  about — men  hurrying  to  and  fro  in 
the  uncertain  light — irregular  volleys  of  musketry  mingling 
with  the  heavier  explosions  of  cannon,  combined  to  create 
a  scene  of  confusion  and  disorder  in  the  Hessian  camp,  that 
no  effort  could  allay.  A  few  soldiers  succeeded  in  wheeling 
two  cannon  into  the  street  along  which  Washington  was 
advancing.  Young  Monroe,  afterward  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  Captain  Washington  sprang  forward  with 
their  men,  and  though  the  matches  were  about  to  descend 
on  the  pieces,  charged  up  to  the  very  muzzles.  A  volley 
of  musketry  met  them,  and  when  the  smoke  cleared  away, 
those  two  gallant  officers  were  seen  reclining  in  the  arms 
of  their  followers,  wounded,  though  not  mortally.  A  shout, 
however,  told  that  the  guns  were  captured.  Washington 
then  ordered  the  column  to  advance  rapidly,  when  one  of 
his  officers  exclaimed — "  Their  flags  are  struck  /""  Looking 
up  in  surprise,  he  replied,  "  So  they  are,"  and  spurring  into 
a  gallop,  dashed  forward.  He  was  victorious — the  burden 
was  suddenly  rolled  from  his  heart,  and  turning  to  one  of 
his  officers,  he  grasped  his  hand,  exclaiming — "  This  is  a 
i.lf.rious  day  for  our  country."  His  "  country"  was  his  only 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  203 

thought.  The  suddenness  of  the  victory  surprised  every 
one.  But  the  Hessians  finding  themselves  hemmed  in  by 
the  Assanpink,  Sullivan,  and  Washington,  and  their  leader 
gone,  saw  that  resistance  would  be  in  vain.  About  six 
hundred  light-horse  and  infantry  made  their  escape  to  Bor- 
dentown.  Ewing  had  not  been  able  to  effect  a  passage,  or 
his  division  would  have  crossed  the  track  of  these  fugitives, 
and  captured  them.  Cadwallader  had  also  found  it  impossi- 
ble to  get  his  army  over,  so  that  the  troops  in  Bordentown, 
Burlington  Block  House,  and  Mount  Holly,  escaped.  The 
victory,  though  incomplete  through  the  inability  of  those 
two  commanders  to  cooperate  with  Washington,  as  antici- 
pated, was  nevertheless  great.  A  thousand  prisoners,  six 
brass  field-pieces,  a  thousand  stand  of  arms,  and  four  colors, 
were  the  glorious  results,  while  the  Americans  lost  only  four 
privates,  two  of  whom  were  frozen  to  death.  Among  those 
of  the  enemy  killed  was  Colonel  Rahl,  the  commander.' 
He  had  been  spending  the  evening,  by  invitation,  at  the 
house  of  a  Tory,  and  while  Washington  stood  on  the  bleak 
shores  of  the  Delaware,  watching  his  army  struggling  in 
the  icy  stream,  was  pleasantly  engaged  in  a  game  of  cards, 
to  which  he  gave  greater  zest,  by  frequent  and  heavy  pota- 
tions, to  the  merry  Christmas.  A  Tory  had  discovered  the 
approach  of  the  American  army  toward  morning,  and  hur- 
ried off  to  find  Colonel  Rahl.  Being  directed  to  the  house 
where  he  was,  he  knocked  at  the  door  and  gave  a  letter  to 
a  negro  waiter,  with  the  request  that  it  should  be  handed  to 
his  master  immediately.  The  servant  at  first  refused  to 
disturb  him,  but  on  being  told  it  was  of  great  importance, 
delivered  it.  It  being  Rahl's  turn  to  deal,  he  thrust  the 
note  into  his  pocket  and  continued  the  game.  Half-an-hour 
had  scarcely  elapsed  when  a  heavy  explosion  of  cannon 
shook  the  house  where  he  sat.  He  started  bewildered  to 
his  feet,  when  another  and  another  followed  in  quick  suc- 
cession. He  called  for  his  horse,  but  before  he  could  be 


204  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

saddled  and  bridled  the  pealing  bugle  and  rapid  roll  of  drums 
told  him  that  the  enemy  was  already  in  his  camp.  Dashing 
forward,  he  rallied  a  few  troops  in  an  orchard,  and  was  lead- 
ing them  up  the  street  against  the  advancing  column,  when 
he  fell  mortally  wounded. 

Before  leaving  Trenton,  Washington  snatched  a  moment 
to  visit  the  dying  officer,  and  expressed  the  deepest  sympa- 
thy for  his  misfortune. 

The  enemy  being  in  great  force  in  the  vicinity,  Washing- 
ton resolved  to  recross  the  Delaware  to  his  old  encampment, 
and  at  evening  the  weary  but  elated  soldiers  were  in  the 
boats,  pulling  to  the  same  shore  they  had  left  the  night  be- 
fore with  such  sad  misgivings.  At  midnight  they  entered 
their  old  quarters  again,  so  utterly  exhausted  by  their  thirty- 
two  hours  toil,  they  could  hardly  stand.  But  for  once  they 
were  forgetful  of  their  cold  bivouac  and  scanty  clothing,  and 
•slept  the  slumbers  of  the  brave. 

The  effect  of  this  victory  on  the  country  was  like  sudden 
life  to  the  dead.  It  was  a  bright  Aurora  fringing  with  light 
and  glory  the  hitherto  dark  and  wintry  heavens.  The  en- 
thusiasm and  joy  were  the  greater,  springing  as  they  did  out 
of  sorrow  and  despair,  and  wherever  over  the  land  the  name 
of  Washington  was  uttered,  tears  fell  like  rain  drops,  and 
blessings  innumerable  were  invoked  on  his  head. 

Washington  scarcely  heard  the  long  shout  that  went  rolling 
over  the  land  as  the  news  of  the  victory  of  Trenton  spread 
on  every  side,  and  paid  but  slight  attention  to  the  numerous 
congratulations  that  came  pouring  in  from  Congress  and  the 
distinguished  men  of  the  colonies,  so  intent  was  he  on 
taking  advantage  of  the  enthusiasm  of  his  troops,  and  the 
panic  of  the  enemy,  and  follow  up  the  unexpected  blow  he 
had  given  with  another  still  more  terrible  and  disastrous. 
It  was  now  mid-winter,  and  his  troops  were  without  tents 
and  clothing,  yet  he  hoped,  by  great  energy  and  daring,  to 
press  so  hard  on  the  cantonments  of  the  British  that  they 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  205 

would  be  compelled  to  break  them  up  and  evacuate  the 
Jerseys.  But  this  little  band  presented  a  sorry  spectacle 
as  it  lay,  half  clad,  scattered  around  on  the  frozen  ground, 
while  to  add  to  his  calamities  he  knew  that  the  term  of  service 
of  several  of  the  regiments  was  drawing  to  a  close.  One 
cheering  feature,  however,  presented  itself.  Congress  hav 
ing  got  over  its  fears  of  a  military  despotism,  or  oppressed 
with  the  still  greater  fear  of  ultimate  failure,  conferred 
at  this  time  [Dec.  27th]  on  Washington  powers  making  him 
practically  military  dictator.  He  was  authorized  to  raise 
sixteen  battalions  of  infantry,  three  thousand  light-horse, 
three  regiments  of  artillery,  together  with  a  corps  of  engi- 
neers, and  appoint  the  officers  himself.  He  had  also  full 
power  when  he  deemed  it  necessary  to  call  on  the  several 
States  for  the  militia — to  appoint  throughout  the  army  all 
the  officers  under  brigadiers — fill  up  all  vacancies — to  take 
whatever  he  wanted  for  the  use  of  his  troops,  wherever  he 
could  find  it,  with  no  other  restriction  than  that  he  must 
pay  its  value — finally,  seizo  and  lock  up  every  man  who 
refused  to  receive  continental  money.  This  was  a  tre- 
mendous stride  from  the  doubtful  and  suspicious  course 
Congress  had  hitherto  adopted.  Such  power  was  never  be- 
fore placed  in  the  hands  of  a  single  man  without  being 
abused.  But  Washington  was  as  destitute  of  mere  ambition 
and  self-love  as  he  was  of  vain  glory ;  one  object  alone 
filled  the  whole  field  of  his  vision — his  country ;  and  one 
thought  only  engrossed  all  his  heart — her  good.  The  coun- 
cil of  safety  of  New  York  wrote  him  an  apology  for  having, 
unintentionally,  as  they  afterward  found,  encroached  on  his 
authority,  while  endeavoring  to  aid  him.  His  letter  shows 
how  irksome  the  power  he  wielded  was  to  him.  "  Heaven 
knows,"  said  he,  "  that  I  greatly  want  the  aid  of  every  good 
man,  and  that  there  are  not  such  enviable  pleasures  attend- 
ing my  situation  as  to  make  me  too  jealous  of  its  preroga- 
tives." The  very  day  after  the  battle  of  Trenton,  while 


206  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

he  stood  musing  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware,  amid  his 
excited  but  suffering  soldiers,  the  vote  investing  him  with 
these  extraordinary  powers  passed  Congress.  The  following 
day  he  recrossed  the  river  and  marched  to  Princeton.  But 
at  this  critical  juncture  the  term  of  service  of  several  of 
the  regiments  expired,  and  the  troops,  worn  down  with 
fatigue  and  exposure,  were  determined  to  go  home.  Wash- 
ington, in  this  emergency,  promised  them  ten  dollars  bounty 
if  they  would  remain  six  weeks  longer,  though  he  did  not 
then  know  where  the  money  was  to  come  from.  He  also 
made  a  strong  appeal  to  officers  and  men.  He  praised  their 
fidelity  and  gallantry,  acknowledged  they  were  entitled  to 
an  honorable  discharge,  but  begged  them  to  think  of  the 
sad  condition  of  their  country  should  they  take  it  at  the 
present  juncture.  He  bade  them  remember  they  were 
standing  on  the  very  spot  they  had  rendered  immortal,  and 
where  they  had  covered  themselves  with  glory.  He  spoke 
of  the  gratitude  of  their  country  and  the  mortification  of 
the  enemy,  and  then  told  them  all  they  had  achieved  would 
be  vain  if  they  disbanded  and  left  him  without  an  army. 
The  enemy  would  immediately  re-occupy  his  posts  and 
march  without  obstruction  to  Philadelphia.  The  officers 
were  moved  by  this  noble  appeal,  and  in  turn  pleaded  with 
the  men,  and  by  this  means  more  than  half  were  persuaded 
to  remain.  Washington,  with  an  empty  military  chest,  then 
wrote  to  that  noble  patriot,  Robert  Morris,  who  was  to  his 
country  in  its  financial  troubles  what  the  former  was  to  her 
in  the  field,  for  immediate  help.  Morris  borrowed  on  his 
own  personal  credit  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  dispatched 
the  amount  without  delay  to  head-quarters,  and  in  the  note 
announcing  its  departure,  bade  Washington  call  on  him 
a^ain  when  in  trouble  and  he  should  have  more. 

O 

In  the  meantime  Cadwallacler  and  Mifflin  had  succeeded  in 
crossing  the  Delaware,  each  with  some  eighteen  hundred 
men,  and  formed  a  junction  with  Washington  at  Trenton. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  207 

While  the  latter  was  thus  concentrating  his  troops  at 
Trenton,  Howe,  on  whom  this  sudden  and  bold  irruption 
had  fallen  like  a  thunder-clap,  immediately  ordered  off  re- 
inforcements to  New  Jersey.  Cornwallis,  who,  supposing 
the  campaign  was  closed,  had  taken  passage  for  England, 
was  directed  to  repair  with  all  haste  to  his  post,  and  soon  a 
formidable  army  assembled  at  Princeton.  On  the  2d  of 
January,  1777,  Cornwallis  put  his  columns  in  motion,  and 
before  daylight  in  the  morning  was  in  front  of  Trenton. 
Washington,  who  had  ascertained  from  scouts  in  what  over- 
whelming numbers  the  enemy  was  moving  against  him, 
withdrew  his  forces  over  the  Assanpink,  and  planted  bat- 
teries so  as  to  command  the  bridge  and  the  different  fords 
in  the  vicinity.  His  position  now  became  one  of  extreme 
peril.  To  make  a  successful  stand  there  on  the  banks  of 
the  Assanpink  was  impossible,  for  so  soon  as  Cornwallis 
should  discern  how  small  was  the  force  opposed  to  him,  he 
would  by  the  mere  weight  of  numbers  crush  it  at  once.  To 
deliver  battle,  under  the  circumstances,  would  insure  the 
utter  overthrow  of  the  army.  Victory  could  not  be  dreamed 
of,  while  retreat  was  impossible,  for  the  ice-filled  Delaware 
was  surging  in  rear,  and  before  the  enemy's  cavalry  the 
half-disciplined  militia  would  become  a  herd  of  fugitives. 
One  can  hardly  imagine  what  great  object  Washington  had 
in  view  to  compensate  for  the  hazardous  position  he  had 
voluntarily  taken,  for  he  now  stood  with  his  hands  tied. 
Nothing  \vas  to  be  done  except  meet  his  fate  manfully,  un- 
less fortune  or  Heaven  interfered  in  some  unlocked  for  way 
in  his  behalf.  One  thing,  however,  was  evident :  he  must 
gain  time  or  be  lost  hopelessly.  The  night  might  bring 
relief,  and  he  therefore  sent  forward  detachments  to  harass 
the  enemy's  march  and  detain  him  as  long  as  possible  from 
reaching  the  Assanpink.  Colonels  Reed  and  Howard,  and 
Captain  Forest  with  the  artillery,  aided  as  they  closed  fiercer 
and  sterner  with  the  foe  by  Morgan  and  Miller,  caused  the 


208  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

vanguard  to  halt  and  the  massive  columns  to  close  up  in 
order  of  battle.  Waiting  for  the  artillery  to  scour  a  wood 
in  which  the  two  latter  officers  lay  concealed,  and  kept  up 
an  incessant,  galling  fire,  the  British  were  delayed  two 
hours.  This  in  all  probability  saved  the  American  army. 
Washington  stood  on  the  shores  of  the  narrow  Assanpink 
and  watched  with  the  most  painful  anxiety  the  steadily  ap- 
proaching fire.  The  gallant  regiments  that  had  thrown 
themselves  so  resolutely  in  the  path  of  the  enemy  were 
being  gradually  forced  back,  and  as  they  approached  the 
banks  of  the  stream  Washington  rode  across  and  thanked 
them  for  their  heroic  conduct.'  He  called  on  them  to  dis- 
pute every  inch  of  ground,  and  retire  only  when  necessary 
to  save  their  pieces.  A  loud  and  cheering  shout  ran  along 
their  ranks,  and  the  next  moment  their  volleys  were  again 
telling  on  the  enemy.  But  at  length,  being  driven  to  the 
river,  the  order  was  given  to  defile  over  the  bridge  to  the 
main  army.  The  advance  columns  of  the  British  followed 
eagerly  after,  and  as  they  reached  the  shore  attempted  to 
force  a  passage,  both  at  the  fords  and  the  bridge.  But  the 
well  planted  batteries  of  the  Americans  swept  the  heads 
of  the  advancing  columns  with  such  a  deadly  fire  that 
they  recoiled  before  it,  leaving  the  stream  filled  with  the 
dead.  Between  every  discharge  the  whole  army  cheered. 

At  length  Cornwallis  arrived  with  the  remaining  artiller}^, 
when  a  terrific  cannonade  was  opened  on  the  American 
lines.  Battery  answered  battery,  and  the  deep  thunder 
rolled  away  over  the  plains,  carrying  consternation  to  the 
inhabitants.  It  was  now  sunset,  and  Washington  expected 
every  moment  to  see  the  heavy  columns  under  the  protection 
of  their  artillery  move  to  the  assault.  Had  this  been  done, 
there  is  but  little  doubt  that  the  American  army  would  have 
been  annihilated.  Cornwallis,  however,  being  ignorant  of 
the  force  opposed  to  him,  and  not  liking  to  make  a  decisive 
effort  in  the  dark,  resolved  to  wait  till  morning  and  renew 


Evacuation  of  Boston. 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  211 

the  attack.  The  stubborn  resistance  he  had  met  with 
during  the  day,  and  the  bold  attitude  of  his  antagonist,  mis- 
led him,  and  he  supposed  Washington  designed  to  offer  him 
battle  on  the  spot  where  he  had  drawn  up  his  army.  Ers- 
kine,  who  was  with  Cornwallis,  remonstrated  against  this 
fatal  resolution,  declaring  that  in  the  morning  Washington 
would  not  be  there.  The  former,  however,  was  firm,  and 
soon  the  loud  explosions  of  artillery  gave  way  to  the  con- 
fused hum  of  the  two  armies  as  they  sunk  to  their  bivouacks, 
within  sight  of  each  other's  camp-fires.  Washington  imme- 
diately called  a  council  of  war  at  the  tent  of  St.  Glair,  to 
determine  what  course  to  adopt  in  this  extremity.  Judging 
from  the  large  force  opposed  to  him  that  many  regiments 
had  not  been  left  behind  at  Princeton  and  Brunswick,  he 
proposed  by  a  circuitous  vigorous  night-march  to  get  in  the 
enemy's  rear,  and  threatening  at  the  same  his  stores  at 
Brunswick  and  his  communication  with  New  York,  frighten 
him  back  from  Philadelphia.  If  Howe  kept  on,  the  city 
must  inevitably  fall,  as  the  only  obstacle  between  it  and 
him  would  be  removed,  still  the  preservation  of  the  army 
was  now  the  great  question,  and  not  that  of  Philadelphia. 

This  daring  resolution  to  march  back  into  the  heart  of 
New  Jersey,  and  resume  a  furious  offensive,  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  all  defense  seemed  hopeless,  was  one  of  those 
inspirations  of  genius  by  which  Bonaparte  so  often  saved 
his  army  and  empire.  He  wished  to  execute  a  similar 
movement  and  march  on  Berlin,  when  pressed  so  heavily 
by  the  allies  after  the  disastrous  retreat  from  Russia,  but  he 
was  overruled  by  his  officers — took  post  at  Leipsic,  and  was 
overthrown.  He  adopted  the  same  bold  resolution  in  his 
last  struggle  on  the  soil  of  France,  and  gaining  the  rear  of 
the  allies  attempted  to  draw  them  back  from  Paris,  but  the 
latter  would  not  be  diverted  from  their  purpose,  and  so 
reached  the  capital  before  him. 

There  was,  however,  one  apparently  insuperable  obstacle 


212  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

in  the  way  of  carrying  out  this  daring  plan.  There  had 
been  a  thaw,  and  the  roads  were  so  soft  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  get  forward  the  artillery,  composed  of  forty 
pieces,  rapidly  enough  to  reach  Princeton  by  morning.  To 
the  infinite  delight  of  Washington  this  objection  was  most 
unexpectedly  and  suddenly  removed — the  wind  changed 
into  the  north  while  the  council  was  deliberating,  and  in 
two  hours  the  roads  were  frozen  as  hard  as  iron.  This 
settled  the  question,  and  preparations  for  marching  were 
immediately  set  on  foot.  The  baggage  was  sent  down  to 
Burlington,  while  fires  were  ordered  to  be  kindled  in  front 
of  the  lines.  The  soldiers,  scattered  and  in  groups,  roamed 
the  fields,  tearing  down  fences  for  fuel,  and  in  a  short  time 
a  bright  fire  blazed  around  the  American  camp.  Guards 
were  placed  at  the  fords  and  bridge,  and  working  parties 
were  detailed  as  if  to"throw  up  trenches,  the  sound  of  whose 
heavy  toil  lulled  into  greater  security  the  sentinels  on  watch. 
Washington  kept  up  also  his  patrols,  who  were  so  near  to 
those  of  the  enemy  that  the  countersigns  of  each  could  be 
distinctly  heard  by  the  other. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  army  began  its  stealthy 
march,  and  silently  and  swiftly  defiled  away  from  its  in- 
trenchments.  But  the  road  chosen  was  unfortunately  a  new 
incomplete  one,  filled  with  stumps.  Against  these  the 
wheels  of  the  artillery,  as  they  were  driven  rapidly  along, 
thumped  heavily,  and  many  of  them  were  broken,  thus 
seriously  retarding  the  march.  But  for  this  the  army  would 
have  reached  Princeton  before  daylight,  and  Washington 
had  time  to  have  advanced  on  Brunswick,  where  large 
stores  and  .£70,000  were  collected.  It  was  a  cold,  bluster- 
ing night,  and  the  scantily  supplied  troops,  who  had  now 
been  twenty-fours  hours  without  sleep,  and  mostly  without 
food,  suffered  severely.  As  it  grew  toward  morning,  Wash- 
ington kept  exclusively  with  the  advance  column,  watching 
eagerly  for  the  daylight.  At  length  the  cold,  gray  dawn 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  213 

appeared,  when  the  troops  were  hurried  forward  with 
greater  speed.  They  were  now  close  on  Princeton,  and  as 
the  bright  sun  rose  over  the  hills,  the  white  columns  of 
smoke  arising  from  the  chimney-tops  through  the  frosty 
air  were  a  grateful  spectacle  to  the  hungry,  weary  and  be- 
numbed soldiers.  But  the  next  moment  there  flashed  forth 
in  the  wintry  beams  a  long  line  of  bayonets,  and  the  whole 
road  before  the  Americans  was  reddened  with  scarlet  uni- 
forms. Three  British  regiments  had  been  quartered  over 
night  at  Princeton,  whose  arrival  at  the  head-quarters  of 
Cornwallis  in  the  morning  was  to  be  the  signal  of  a  general 
assault  on  the  American  lines.  Two  of  these  were  already 
on  the  march,  and  did  not  at  first  observe  the  main  Ameri- 
can army,  which,  concealed  behind  a  piece  of  woods,  was 
swiftly  passing  along  a  by-road  over  a  low  piece  of  ground, 
straight  for  Princeton.  General  Mercer,  with  about  three 
hundred  and  fifty  soldiers,  many  of  them  young  men  of 
wealth  from  Philadelphia,  was  sent  by  Washington  to  take 
possession  of  the  traveled  highway  to  Trenton,  and  seize 
the  bridge  over  which  it  passed  and  cut  off  any  fugitives 
who  might  attempt  to  escape  to  Cornwallis.  He  had  scarcely 
commenced  his  march  when  he  became  revealed  to  the 
astonished  British.  Mawhood,  the  commander,  had  just 
crossed  the  bridge  on  his  way  to  Trenton,  when  this  appari- 
tion burst  upon  him.  Instantly  seeing  the  danger  he  was 
in  of  being  cut  off  from  Princeton,  and  attacked  in  the  open 
country,  he  suddenly  wheeled  and  recrossed  the  stream — 
reaching  the  opposite  bank  just  as  Mercer's  column  arrived. 
The  two  commanders  then  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
gain  the  high  ground  nearer  Princeton,  ascending  the 
slope  on  opposite  sides.  Mercer  was  first  up,  and  pressing 
through  an  orchard  saw  the  British  line  rapidly  approach- 
ing. A  rail-fence  lay  between  them,  behind  which  the 
Americans  took  shelter  and  poured  in  a  deadly  volley.  The 
British,  who  were  advancing  at  the  charge  step,  halted  and 

12 


214  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

delivered  their  fire  at  the  same  moment.  The  lines  were 
so  near  to  each  other  that  the  smoke  of  the  two  volleys 
met  and  curled  gracefully  upward  together  in  the  morning 
sunlight.  The  moment  the  enemy  had  delivered  their  fire 
the  order  to  charge  was  given,  and  they  rushed  forward 
with  the  bayonet.  The  Americans,  many  of  them  being 
armed  only  with  rifles,  soon  broke  and  fled  down  the  hill. 
Mercer,  his  horse  being  wounded,  rushed  on  foot  amid  his 
men,  endeavoring  by  word  and  example  to  rally  them. 
With  a  portion  of  them  he  was  in  a  hand  to  hand  fight  with 
the  British,  when  a  soldier  leveled  him  to  the  ground  with 
his  musket.  A  half  a  dozen  bayonets  immediately  gleamed 
over  his  breast,  and  the  soldiers  cried  out,  "  call  for  quar- 
ters, you  d — d  rebel."  Mercer  indignantly  refused,  and  cut 
at  the  nearest  with  his  sword,  when  he  was  transfixed  to 
the  earth  and  left  for  dead.*  As  Mawhood  pushed  across 
the  hill  in  pursuit  of  the  flying  detachment,  he  came  to  the 
brow  that  looked  down  on  the  army  under  Washington, 
moving  rapidly  up  to  the  aid  of  Mercer.  He  saw  the 

*  Hugh  Mercer  was  a  Scotchman  by  birth,  and  came  to  this  country  as  a  phy- 
sician. He  early  entered  the  military  service,  and  served  with  Washington  when  the 
latter  was  a  Virginia  colonel.  He  was  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Mouongahela,  and 
unable  to  keep  up  with  Braddock's  army  in  its  wild  retreat,  lay  down  behind  a 
log  to  die.  The  savages  were  all  around  him,  tomahawking  the  wounded  and  scalping 
the  dead,  yet  he  remained  concealed,  listening  to  the  groans  and  diabolical  yells 
that  marked  their  infernal  labor.  At  length  as  night  drew  in  he  was  left  alone  with 
the  forest  and  ghastly  dead.  Faint  with  the  loss  of  blood,  and  parched  with  fever, 
he  crawled  forth,  and  reaching  a  little  rivulet  quenched  his  raging  thirst.  Refreshed 
by  the  cooling  draught,  he  endeavored  to  follow  in  the  track  of  the  army.  But  he 
was  a  hundred  miles  from  any  settlement,  and  unable  with  his  shattered  shoulder 
to  obtain  any  food.  Faint  and  exhausted,  he  was  compelled  to  halt  at  short  inter- 
vals and  re.st  Slow  death  by  famine  now  stared  him  in  the  face,  but  as  he  stumbled 
along  he  saw  a  rattlesnake  in  his  path.  By  great  exertion  he  succeeded  in  killing 
the  viper.  He  then  with  his  unwounded  arm  and  hand  skinned  him  and  devoured 
part  of  the  flesh  raw.  The  remainder  he  flung  over  his  unwounded  shoulder  and 
pressed  on.  When  the  pangs  of  hunger  could  be  no  longer  endured,  or  nature 
became  exhausted,  he  would  chew  a  piece  of  the  reptile,  and  thus  succeeded  in 
reaching  Fort  Cumberland,  though  a  mere  walking  skeleton.  He  survived  the 
battle  of  Princeton  but  a  few  days,  and  died  in  great  pain.  He  was  a  gallant 
officer,  and  his  death  was  universally  lamented. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  215 

latter,  who  was  in  advance  of  the  main  body  with  a  select 
corps,  ride  forward  to  arrest  the  fugitives,  and  with  his  hat 
swinging  above  his  head,  gallop  swiftly  from  point  to  point 
to  steady  his  troops,  who  had  already  begun  to  feel  the 
effects  of  the  first  panic.  His  quick  eye  detected  at  a  glance 
the  desperate  odds  against  him,  but  taking  advantage  of  the 
confusion  the  defeated  detachment  had  created,  he  gallantly 
resolved  to  charge,  and  with  loud  shouts  the  troops  rushed 
forward.  Before  the  threatened  shock  the  Americans  began 
to  recoil.  Washington,  knowing  that  defeat  would  be  anni- 
hilation, no  sooner  saw  his  ranks  begin  to  shake  than  he 
spurred  forward,  shouting  to  his  astonished  troops  to  follow 
him,  and  rode  to  within  thirty  yards  of  the  enemy,  and 
halted,  while  his  staff  gazed  on  him  with  astonishment. 
The  hitherto  wavering  militia  wheeled  instantly  into  line. 
The  enemy  then  halted  and  dressed  their  line  also,  and  the 
order  to  fire  passed  simultaneously  along  the  ranks  of 
both.  Washington  still  sat  midway  between  the  two,  his 
eye  turned  full  on  the  foe.  One  of  his  aids,  horror-struck 
at  the  sight,  dropped  the  reins  upon  his  horse's  neck  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  chapeau,  so  as  not  to  see  his  com- 
mander fall.  A  crash  of  musketry  followed,  and  when  the 
smoke  lifted  there  sat  Washington,  to  the  amazement  of  all, 
unharmed.  The  next  moment  his  loud  shout  rose  over  the 
din  of  battle,  and  swinging  his  hat  over  his  head  for  a  ban- 
ner to  those  who  pressed  after,  he  spurred  against  the  flying 
enemy.  His  favorite  aid  wept  like  a  child  at  the  spectacle, 
while  Fitzgerald,  another  aid,  and  the  finest  horseman  in 
the  army,  dashed  up  to  him,  and  in  the  suddenness  of  his 
joy  exclaimed,  "  Thank  God  your  excellency  is  safe"  Wash- 
ington gave  one  grasp  of  the  hand  to  his  weeping  aid,  and 
turning  to  Fitzgerald,  exclaimed — "  Away,  my  dear  colonel — 
bring  tip  the  troops,  the  day  is  our  own."  '•'  Long  live  Wash- 
ington!" rolled  back  over  the  field,  and  went  up  like  a 
morning  anthem  to  heaven.  The  second  regiment  ad- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

vancing  to  sustain  the  first,  was  also  routed.  All  now  was 
excitement  and  exultation  in  the  American  army,  and  the 
patriots  forgetting  the  exhaustion  of  the  last  night's  march 
streamed  after  the  fugitives. 

The  first  heavy  explosions  of  cannon  at  Princeton  roused 
up  Cornwallis,  who  thought  it  thundered.  But  Erskine 
knew  too  well  what  the  sound  betokened,  and  exclaimed, 
"To  arms ,  general ;  the  enemy  is  at  Princeton!"  A  single 
glance  at  the  empty  intrenchments  of  the  Americans  re- 
vealed the  whole  terrible  plot  that  had  been  sprung  upon 
him,  and  the  cry  of  "  to  arms,"  "  to  arms,"  and  rapid  roll 
of  drums,  and  blast  of  the  bugle  sounded  wildly  through 
the  camp,  and  in  a  few  minutes  artillery,  infantry,  and 
cavalry  were  thundering  along  the  road  toward  Princeton, 
which  lay  only  ten  miles  distant.  Washington,  knowing 
that  the  first  sound  of  his  guns  would  bring  the  enemy  upon 
him,  pressed  the  regiments  he  encountered  with  all  the 
energy  and  vehemence  in  his  power.  He  also  sent  a  de- 
tachment to  destroy  the  bridge  that  Mercer  had  been  directed 
to  occupy,  in  order  to  arrest  their  progress  and  delay  the 
pursuit.  Major  Kelley,  who  commanded  it,  had  just  begun 
to  tear  up  the  planks  when  the  van  of  the  British  rose  over 
the  hill  in  the  distance,  coming  on  a  run.  The  latter  imme- 
diately threw  a  discharge  of  round  shot  into  the  detachment, 
which  drove  it  away  from  the  river.  The  Americans  suc- 
ceeded, however,  in  tumbling  all  the  planks  into  the  stream, 
leaving  only  the  skeleton  of  timbers  standing.  This 
stopped  the  progress  of  the  artillery,  but  Cornwallis,  hearing 
the  roar  of  Washington's  cannon  beyond  Princeton,  and 
fearing  for  his  stores  at  Brunswick,  ordered  the  soldiers  into 
the  stream  where  it  was  fordable.  Breast  deep  they  plunged 
in,  and  struggled  bravely  through  the  ice-filled  channel.  But 
tliev  had  scarcely  mounted  the  opposite  bank  before  the  cold 
January  morning  froze  their  uniforms  stiff  upon  them.  Still 
the  urgent  order  of  the  officers  was  "  forward,"  "  forward," 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  217 

and  the  benumbed  troops  pressed  on  to  Princeton.  As  the 
advance-guard  approached  the  town  an  iron  thirty- two 
pounder,  left  on  a  breast-work,  was  fired  by  some  one,  which 
brought  them  to  a  sudden  pause.  Cornwallis  riding  up, 
surveyed  a  moment  the  battery,  and  concluding  that  Wash- 
ington had  made  a  stand  there  to  offer  him  battle,  ordered 
a  halt.  A  sharp  reconnoisance  was  immediately  made  by 
parties  on  horseback,  and  a  whole  hour  was  wasted  in  con- 
sulting on  the  best  mode  of  taking  this  formidable  battery. 
At  length  the  steady  columns  moved  forward  to  the  assault, 
but  meeting  no  resistance  quietly  entered  the  half-finished 
works,  when  to  their  amazement  they  found  not  a  soul 
within.  Washington  all  this  time  was  chasing  up  the  two 
regiments  fleeing  toward  Brunswick. 

Having  pursued  the  enemy  as  far  as  Kingston,  he  halted,  and 
collecting  his  officers  hastily  around  him  on  horseback,  asked 
whether  it  was  best  to  continue  on  to  Brunswick.  The  prize 
was  tempting,  but  Cornwallis  was  in  close  pursuit  with  a 
large  army  of  fresh  troops,  supported  by  cavalry,  while 
many  of  the  Americans,  having  marched  two  whole  nights 
without  shoes  and  stockings,  measuring  the  frozen  highway 
and  charging  in  battle  barefoot,  and  that  too  without  break- 
fast or  dinner,  were  completely  exhausted.  It  was  resolved, 
therefore,  to  abandon  the  pursuit;  and  turning  off  into  a 
narrow  road,  the  army  reached  Pluckemin  that  evening  in 
safety,  with  three  hundred  prisoners,  while  between  one  and 
two  hundred  of  the  enemy  had  been  left  stark  and  stiff  on 
the  slopes  before  Princeton.  Halting  at  the  latter  place 
only  long  enough  to  give  his  tired  gallant  little  army  food 
and  rest,  he  pushed  on  to  Morristown,  where  he  soon  after 
took  up  his  winter-quarters.  Here,  girdled  in  by  moun- 
tains from  whose  bases  a  country  rich  in  supplies  extended 
on  every  side,  he  gathered  his  victorious  troops,  but  not  to 
rest.  Scarcely  a  morning  passed  without  the  bugle  call  re- 
sounding through  the  camp  announced  that  a  detachment 


,    218  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

was  on  the  march  to  intercept  or  attack  the  foraging  parties 
of  the  enemy.  These  were  cut  off  or  driven  in  so  constantly 
that  the  British  commander  found  it  impossible  to  sustain 
his  army  except  at  those  places  which  had  open  water  com- 
munication with  New  York.  Soon  all  New  Jersey,  but 
Brunswick  and  Amboy,  were  cleared  of  the  enemy,  and 
Philadelphia  relieved  from  immediate  danger. 

Thus  in  less  than  a  single  fortnight  Washington,  by  a 
succession  of  the  most  brilliant  and  daring  manoeuvres  on 
record,  had  lifted  the  nation  out  of  the  depths  of  despond- 
ency, gave  confidence  to  the  government,  turned  the  tide 
of  misfortune,  and  covered  his  tattered  troops  with  glory. 
The  shout  of  exultation  that  followed  rung  round  the 
civilized  world  till  even  kings  learned  to  reverence  the  name 
of  Washington,  and  baptized  him  the  "  American  Fabius." 
Such  unexpected,  sudden  results,  took  friends  and  foes 
equally  by  surprise.  The  British  commander  was  stunned. 
He  had  been  chasing  Washington  all  the  autumn,  endeavor- 
ing by  every  means  in  his  power  to  provoke  him  to  battle. 
He  had  taken  more  than  four  thousand  prisoners — divided 
and  reduced  his  army,  till,  without  shelter  and  almost  with- 
out clothing,  it  lay  shivering  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware. 
To  this  downward  point  he  had  forced  it  in  mid -winter, 
when  he  thought  it  could  not  possibly  resume  successful 
operations.  But  just  at  this  moment,  when  Washington 
was  never  so  little  able  even  to  defend  himself,  the  British 
commander  saw  him  suddenly  wheel  about  and  breaking 
into  one  of  the  most  furious  offensives  on  record,  fall  like 
successive  thunder-claps  on  his  strong  battalions,  and  roll 
them  back  at  every  point.  He  found  that  Washington,  with 
all  the  wariness  of  the  fox,  had  the  terrible  spring  of  the 
lion. 

The  amount  of  suffering  Washington  endured  in  this  long 
and  tedious  retreat,  the  noble  struggles  he  had  passed  through 
to  bear  up  against  the  want  of  supplies,  of  arms,  and  even 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  219 

of  ammunition — against  a  murmuring,  rebellious,  and,  worse 
than  all,  cowardly  army — against  the  suspicion  of  his  own 
officers  and  neglect  of  the  very  States  he  was  striving  to 
defend — against  the  jealousy  of  Congress — against  poverty, 
destitution  and  wholesale  desertion,  will  never  be  known. 
It  remained  locked  up  in  his  great  heart,  and  even  in  after 
years  was  never  spoken  of.  Neither  shall  we  know  what 
dreadful  anxiety  weighed  him  down  after  he  had  taken  the 
desperate  resolution  he  did,  until  success  crowned  his  efforts. 
With  his  almost  infallible  judgment  he  had  evidently  mea- 
sured in  its  length  and  breadth  the  cause  of  the  colonies, 
and  knew  that  if  he  should  continue  to  retreat,  and  Phila- 
delphia fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  his  demoralized 
army  would  disband,  and  spring  find  the  current  setting  so 
strongly  back  toward  the  mother  country  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  offer  any  effectual  resistance  to  the  enemy. 
The  moral  effect  of  a  victory  he  must  have,  or  be  lost,  and 
he  determined  to  risk  all  to  gain  it.  It  is  evident  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  never  to  survive  defeat.  He  felt  he  had 
reached  the  turning  point  in  the  struggle — beyond  lay  both 
hope  and  despair.  In  this  crisis  of  his  country's  destiny,  he 
resolved  to  occupy  the  post  of  greatest  danger  himself,  and 
if  the  decree  had  gone  out  against  his  country,  receive  the 
first  blow  on  his  own  breast.  He  was  too  noble,  too  great, 
to  peril  so  fearfully  his  army  and  the  cause  of  freedom,  and 
wish  to  survive  their  overthrow.  Hence,  although  com- 
mander-in-chief,  he  became  in  fact  leader  of  the  advance 
guard,  both  in  the  march  on  Trenton  and  Princeton.  To 
the  remonstrance  of  his  officers  in  the  first  battle,  not  to 
expose  his  person  so  recklessly,  he  scarcely  deigned  a  reply. 
At  Princeton  he  planted  himself  where  his  death  must  in- 
evitably follow  the  desertion  of  his  troops,  and  where  it 
was  almost  certain  to  happen  whatever  the  issue  might  be. 
He  had  reached  a  crisis  demanding  a  sacrifice,  and  he  cast 
himself  and  his  little  band  on  the  altar,  and  by  that  sacri- 


220  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

fice,  great  as  it  was  glorious,  redeemed  his  country.  The 
triumph  was  complete,  but  the  officers  trembled  when  they 
reflected  at  what  peril  to  Washington  it  had  been  achieved, 
and  besought  him  in  future  to  be  more  prudent,  for  too 
great  interests  were  bound  up  in  his  life  to  have  it  so 
lavishly  exposed. 


The  Bellmau  Inform*!  of  the  passage  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  223 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

Washington's  Fame  in  Europe — Barbarity  of  the  Hessians — Depredations  of  the 
Troops — General  Heath  summons  Fort  Independence  to  surrender — Washing- 
ton issues  a  counter  Proclamation  to  that  of  Howe,  which  is  poorly  received  in 
New  Jersey — Five  additional  Major  Generals  and  ten  Brigadiers  appointed — In- 
human treatment  of  American  Prisoners  by  the  British — Arnold  and  Wooster 
drive  Governor  Tryon  back  to  his  ships — Meigs'  Expedition  to  Sag  Harbor — The 
British  Evacuate  New  Jersey — Arrival  of  Lafayette — His  Interview  with  Wash- 
ington— The  British  land  at  Elk  and  march  on  Philadelphia — Washington  advances 
to  meet  them — Skirmishing — Washington  re-crosses  the  Brandy  wine  and  takes 
position  near  Chad's  Ford — Position  of  the  Northern  Army,  etc. 

AN  officer,  writing  from  Morristown,  after  the  battle  of 
Princeton,  said,  "  Our  army  love  their  general  very  much, 
but  they  have  one  thing  against  him :  which  is  the  little 
care  he  takes  of  himself  in  any  action.  His  personal  bravery 
and  the  desire  he  has  of  animating  his  troops  by  his  ex 
ample  make  him  fearless  of  danger.  This  occasions  us  much 
uneasiness.  But  Heaven,  which  has  hitherto  been  his  shield, 
will,  I  hope,  still  continue  to  guard  his  valuable  life."* 

As  one  traces  Washington  through  this  campaign,  and 
learns  to  appreciate  all  the  difficulties  that  beset  him,  and 
looks  into  his  secret  heart  and  sees  how  pure,  how  noble, 
how  unselfish  and  full  of  devotion  to  his  country  all  his 
feelings  are,  he  exclaims  at  every  step,  "INCOMPARABLE  MAN!" 
No  suspicion  and  distrust  can  excite  his  hostility,  no  re- 
proaches or  unjust  insinuations  drive  him  into  hasty  action — 
no  accumulation  of  disaster  or  oppression  or  want  shake  his 
purpose  or  unsettle  for  a  moment  his  judgment. 

The  nations  of  Europe  had  watched  the  progress  of  the 
struggle  with  great  interest,  and  the  news  of  these  sudden 
victories  at  Trenton  and  Princeton,  and  of  the  first  great 
check  of  the  enemy,  filled  them  with  admiration.  Says  Botta, 

*  Tide  Sparks'  Letters  and  Speeches  of  Washington. 


224  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

"  Achievements  so  astonishing  gained  for  the  American 
commander  a  very  great  reputation,  and  were  regarded  with 
wonder  by  all  nations,  as  well  as  by  the  Americans.  Every 
one  applauded  the  prudence,  the  firmness  and  the  daring  of 
General  Washington.  All  declared  him  the  saviour  of  his 
country ;  all  proclaimed  him  equal  to  the  most  renowned 
commanders  of  antiquity,  and  especially  distinguished  him 
by  the  name  of  the  American  Fabius.  His  name  was  in  the 
mouths  of  all  men,  and  celebrated  by  the  pens  of  the  most 
eminent  writers.  The  greatest  personages  in  Europe  be- 
stowed upon  him  praise  and  congratulations.  Thus  the 
American  general  wanted  neither  a  noble  cause  to  defend, 
nor  an  opportunity  for  acquiring  glory,  nor  the  genius  to 
avail  himself  of  it,  nor  a  whole  generation  of  men  compe- 
tent and  well  disposed  to  render  him  homage." 

Washington  had  no  sooner  got  his  army  well  housed  in 
log  huts,  than  he  began,  as  before  remarked,  to  send  out  de- 
tachments to  cut  off  English  foraging  parties.  In  this  he 
received  great  assistance  from  the  inhabitants,  who,  aroused 
by  the  atrocities  committed  by  the  Hessian  and  English 
troops,  thirsted  for  vengeance.  The  pardon  granted  by 
Howe  to  those  who  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  had  been 
of  no  avail.  The  Hessian  soldiers,  looking  upon  the  Ameri- 
cans as  barbarians  and  outlaws,  denied  to  friend  and  foe 
alike  the  protection  usually  extended  to  peaceful  inhabitants 
by  an  invading  army.  The  wintry  heavens  were  made 
lurid  with  the  flames  of  burning  dwellings,  and  the  shrieks 
of  murdered  men,  and  of  women  outraged  and  ravished  in 
presence  of  their  own  families,  were  borne  on  every  breeze 
over  the  land. 

Oppressed  with  a  powerful  army,  the  inhabitants  had 
been  compelled  to  remain  passive  under  these  aggravated 
acts  of  violence,  and  those  who  had  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance  saw  that  their  cowardice  or  lukewarmness  in  the 
cause  of  their  country,  had  only  brought  on  them  contempt 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  225 

and  ruin.  New  Jersey  had  become  a  scene  of  horror  and 
desolation,  and  the  atrocities  committed  by  the  enemy 
were  bruited  over  Europe,  and  awakened  in  the  French 
people  the  deepest  indignation,  who  compared  the  English 
to  the  Goths  and  Vandals  in  their  incursions  against  the 
civilized  nations  of  Europe.  This  wholesale  pillage  of  the 
inhabitants  was  not  confined  to  the  invaders,  the  American 
troops  themselves  sacked  the  dwellings  of  the  wealthy,  de- 
claring they  were  partisans  of  the  king,  and  hence  their 
property  should  be  confiscated. 

But  this  sudden  success  of  Washington  put  a  different 
aspect  on  affairs.  The  outraged  patriots  flew  to  arms — 
many  a  wronged  and  robbed  inhabitant  became  at  once  a 
spy,  a  scout,  and  a  soldier,  and  did  good  service  in  scourging 
these  marauders  back. 

In  the  meantime  Washington  strung  cantonments  from 
Princeton  to  the  Highlands,  connecting  his  army  with  that 
of  Heath,  whom  he  had  urged  to  make  a  demonstration 
against  New  York,  for  the  purpose  of  compelling  Howe  to 
withdraw  his  troops  from  New  Jersey  and  concentrate  them 
in  that  city.  This  commander  after  much  delay  at  length 
put  his  troops  in  motion,  and  appearing  before  Fort  Inde- 
pendence, summoned  it  in  a  pompous  manner  to  surrender. 
The  whole  expedition,  however,  proved  a  failure,  and 
General  Heath  retired  without  any  laurels  to  the  High- 
lands. 

Washington,  having  witnessed  the  effect  of  Howe's  pro- 
clamation on  the  people  of  New  Jersey,  and  finding  that 
many,  though  wholly  estranged  from  the  British  cause  by 
the  barbarities  under  which  they  had  suffered,  still  regarded 
their  oath  as  binding  them  at  least  to  a  strict  neutrality, 
issued  a  counter-proclamation,  [January  25th,]  in  which  he 
commanded  all  persons  who  had  received  protections  from 
British  commissioners  to  deliver  them  up  at  once,  and  take 
in  place  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States.  Thirty 


226  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

days  were  allowed  them  in  which  to  do  it — after  that  time 
all  who  refused  would  be  treated  as  enemies.  This  was  the 
first  palpable  use  Washington  made  of  his  dictatorial  power, 
and  the  manner  in  which  it  was  received  by  the  state 
authorities  of  New  Jersey  argued  poorly  for  its  working  in 
the  country  at  large.  It  was  asserted  that,  there  being  no 
confederation  of  the  states  formed,  Congress  had  not  the 
power  to  exact  such  an  oath,  and  hence  could  not  delegate 
it  to  another — that  its  assumption  by  Washington  was  a 
direct  encroachment  upon  the  prerogatives  of  the  separate 
states,  to  which  alone  this  power  belonged.  The  complaints 
extended  even  to  Congress,  and  members  were  found  tech- 
nical and  unpatriotic  enough  to  take  sides  with  New  Jersey. 
Mr.  Abraham  Clark,  a  delegate  from  this  very  State,  and  one 
of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  opposed 
it  in  Congress,  and,  in  a  letter  to  Colonel  Dayton,  placed  his 
objections  on  the  grounds  already  mentioned,  and  added,  "  / 
believe  the  General  honest  but  fallible." 

Previous  to  this,  Washington  had  addressed  an  earnest, 
pressing  letter  to  the  Governor  of  the  state,  remonstrating 
against  the  raising  of  several  battalions,  as  he  had  done,  for 
the  defense  of  the  State  alone,  and  not  as  a  part  of  the  con- 
tinental army.  That  letter,  though  courteous  and  guarded, 
is  couched  in  language  that  could  not  be  mistaken,  and  gave 
the  Governor  to  understand  most  emphatically  that  the  ex- 
traordinary powers  with  which  he  had  been  invested  were 
not  an  idle  ceremony,  but  would  be  wielded  when  the 
exigencies  of  his  condition  required  it.  After  speaking  of 
the  superior  advantages  of  having  the  drafts  made  for  the 
service  of  the  country  at  large  instead  of  the  single  state  of 
New  Jersey,  he  adds,  "  I  am  sure  that  the  necessity  of  hav- 
ing the  continental  regiments  immediately  completed  is  too 
obvious  to  need  any  further  arguments.  I  hope  the  powers  of 
government  are  such  as  to  complete  the  new  levies  by  draft  if  they 
cannot  be  filled  reasonably  by  voluntary  enlistments.  Necessity 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  227 

obliges  me  to  call  upon  you,  as  I  shall  upon  every  other  state.,  in 
the  most  pressing  terms  to  complete,  without  delay,  your  propor- 
tion of  the  eighty-eight  battalions"  A  call  for  the  several 
quotas  was  also  made  from  the  other  states,  and  Washing- 
ton employed  the  power  given  him,  to  collect  and  organize 
an  army  for  a  spring  campaign.  He  also  wrote  to  Congress, 
but  this  body  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly  exorcised  of 
all  its  greatness,  and  much  of  its  patriotism,  and  regarded 
his  appeals  apparently  like  petitions,  which  it  had  resolved 
beforehand  to  lay  on  the  table.  In  the  mode  of  appointing 
five  additional  major-generals,  and  ten  brigadiers,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  long  and  urgent  request  of  Washington,  they 
showed  how  small  a  portion  they  possessed  of  the  self-de- 
nying patriotism  and  noble  devotion  to  the  interests  of  their 
country  which  characterized  the  commander-in-chief,  about 
whose  abuse  of  power  they  had  been  so  solicitous.  When 
the  fate  of  the  country  was  involved,  and  the  salvation  of 
the  army  depended,  in  a  great  measure,  upon  the  ability 
and  character  of  the  commanding  officers,  their  appointment 
was  brought  about  by  political  shuffling,  and  used  to  gratify 
personal  friendship  or  personal  ambition.  Each  state  had 
its  favorite  candidates,  and  each  candidate  his  supporters. 
There  were  exceptions  to  this  conduct,  it  is  true,  but,  in  the 
main,  Washington  was  not  consulted,  and  officers  were 
forced  on  him  he  never  would  have  chosen.  In  order  to 
apportion  them  properly  to  the  different  states  and  thus 
gratify  local  jealousies,  incompetent  men  were  appointed, 
and  in  some  instances  made  to  outrank  officers  who  had 
served  from  the  outset  of  the  war.  The  latter  were  indig- 
nant at  this  injustice,  and  it  required  all  Washington's  in- 
fluence to  pacify  them.  The  miserable  and  low  view 
Congress  took  of  its  duties  in  this  respect,  resulting  as  it 
did  in  sowing  dissensions  in  the  army  and  increasing  the 
embarrassment  of  Washington  laid  the  foundation,  doubtless, 
of  Arnold's  after  treason. 


228  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

The  pernicious  precedent  set  at  this  time  has  ever  since 
been  followed,  and  probably  will  be  to  the  end  of  the  chap- 
ter. Congress,  always  ignorant  of  military  matters,  will 
thrust  civilian  generals  on  the  army,  just  as  the  President 
dispenses  offices,  and  political  favor  will  carry  a  man  to  a 
higher  grade  than  honorable  scars. 

While  the  two  armies  lay  in  winter-quarters,  negotiations 
were  opened  for  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  Various  offers 
had  previously  been  made  to  effect  the  release  of  Lee,  and 
both  Washington  and  Congress  were  very  anxious  about  his 
fate.  Although  Lee  had  resigned  the  commission  which 
he  held  in  the  English  army  before  he  joined  that  of  the 
colonies,  Howe  chose  to  regard  him  as  a  deserter,  and 
treated  him  as  such,  and  threatened  to  try  him  by  court- 
martial.  Congress  immediately  retaliated  by  placing  Col. 
Campbell,  a  British  prisoner,  in  a  common  jail,  and  refusing 
to  five  Hessian  field-officers,  taken  at  Trenton,  the  usual 
privileges  of  prisoners  of  war.  The  English  government 
fearing  the  effect  of  this  treatment  would  be  to  disgust  their 
mercenary  troops  with  the  service,  relented,  and  allowed 
Lee  to  be  regarded  as  a  prisoner  of  war;  and  finally  con- 
sented to  his  exchange.  Washington  opposed  these  retalia- 
tory measures  as  both  inhuman  and  impolitic.  "  Why,"  he 
asked,  "  should  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  relieve  the  dis- 
tresses of  one  brave,  unfortunate  man  involve  many  more 
in  the  same  calamities  ?"  It  was  bad  policy,  because  the 
balance  of  prisoners  was  heavy  against  us,  and  hence,  if  the 
British  commander  followed  our  example,  Americans  would 
be  by  far  the  heaviest  sufferers.  Howe,  to  his  credit  be  it 
said,  did  not  retaliate,  though  it  might  be  asserted  with  some 
show  of  truth  that  he  could  not,  for  to  what  more  loathsome 
dungeons,  or  dreadful  want  and  suffering,  the  American 
prisoners  confined  in  New  York  could  be  doomed,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  conceive.  More  unprovoked,  useless  barbarity, 
more  cold-blooded,  damning  cruelty  was  never  witnessed 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  229 

amid  savages.  The  loathsome  dens  into  which  the  victims 
were  crowded  were  filled  with  stench  and  vermin;  and  un- 
clad, unfed,  uncared  for,  they  died  by  hundreds,  while  those 
who  survived  till  spring,  came  forth  from  their  dismal 
abodes  looking  more  like  skeletons  emerging  from  their 
graves,  than  strong-limbed  soldiers  whose  only  offense  had 
been  that  of  fighting  for  their  fire-sides  and  their  homes. 
Of  the  five  thousand  who  had  been  locked  up  in  the  prisons, 
churches  and  sugar-houses  of  New  York,  but  few  sound, 
healthy  men  ever  came  out.  An  Irish  cut-throat  by  the 
name  of  Cunningham  had  charge  of  the  "  New  Jail,"  in 
which  most  of  the  American  officers  and  the  eminent  Whigs 
were  confined.  This  miscreant  jailer  kept  those  officers  of 
rank  and  gentlemen  of  wealth  in  miserable  cells,  or  con- 
fined in  an  upper  chamber,  and  crowded  so  close  together 
that  when  stretched  at  night  on  the  plank  floor,  they  could 
not  turn  over  except  all  at  once,  at  the  word  "RIGHT — LEFT." 
He  had  a  gallows  erected,  apparently  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment, on  which  he  almost  every  night  hung  some  poor 
wretch.  His  hour  for  these  occasional  recreations  was  just 
after  midnight.  Howe  was  too  lazy  and  too  indifferent  to 
the  fate  of  a  few  rebels  to  make  any  inquiries  about  the 
condition  of  his  prisoners;  .and,  although  he  does  not  stand 
charged  with  personal  cruelty,  he  was  guilty  of  a  crime 
closely  akin  to  it — utter  indifference  to  whether  it  was  prac- 
tised or  not  under  his  authority.  He  indignantly  denied 
the  charge  which  Washington  made  against  him,  but  the 
facts,  as  afterward  proved,  and  his  statements  are  as  wide 
apart  as  heaven  and  earth. 

So  reduced  had  these  prisoners  become,  that  they  were 
wholly  unfit  for  duty,  and  when  Howe  proposed  to  exchange 
them,  Washington  refused  to  give  the  same  number  of 
healthy  British  and  Hessian  soldiers.  Howe  then  accused 
him  of  violating  the  agreement  made  between  them. 
Washington  retorted  in  a  withering  letter,  in  which,  after 


230  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

declaring  that  an  exchange  of  strong,  healthy  soldiers  for 
sick  and  helpless  ones  would  be  putting  a  premium  on  in- 
humanity, and  that  an  agreement  to  exchange  prisoners  was 
based  on  the  principle  of  equality,  in  not  recognizing  which 
he  was  really  the  one  guilty  of  violating  the  compact,  he 
adds,  "  It  may,  perhaps,  be  fairly  doubted  whether  an  ap- 
prehension of  their  death,  or  that  of  a  great  part  of  them, 
did  not  contribute  somewhat  to  their  being  sent  out  when 
they  were.  Such  an  event  whilst  they  remained  with  you  would 
have  been  truly  interesting ;  because  it  would  have  destroyed 
every  .shadow  of  claim  for  a  return  of  the  prisoners  in  our 
hands ;  and  therefore  policy  concurring  with  humanity  dic- 
tated that  the  measure  should  be  adopted.  Happy  had  it 
been  if  the  expedient  had  been  thought  of  before  these  ill- 
fated  men  were  reduced  to  such  extremity."  He  also  ac- 
cuses him  directly  of  treating  the  prisoners  in  his  hands 
cruelly,  and  thus  causing  the  death  of  large  numbers. 

The  measures  proposed  for  an  exchange  of  prisoners  thus 
became  embarrassed,  and  were  not  carried  out  until  some  time 
afterward.  The  balance  of  prisoners  against  the  Americans 
after  the  battle  of  Princeton  was  about  one  thousand.  The 
British  having  taken  in  all  a  little  less  than  five  thousand, 
and  the  Americans  about  four  thousand. 

Spring  opened  without  any  general  movement  on  the  part 
of  Howe.  This  was  fortunate  for  Washington,  as  the  en- 
listments for  the  war  or  for  three  years  went  on  slowly,  and 
the  new  levies  arrived  tardily  and  at  long  intervals,  leaving 
the  army  weak  and  unable  to  offer  any  effectual  resistance 
to  Howe  if  he  had  taken  the  field  vigorously.  But  he  too 
was  waiting  for  reinforcements,  and  tents  and  field  equip- 
ments. In  April,  however,  he  sent  Governor  Tryon  with 
ten  thousand  men  to  destroy  the  stores  at  Danbury.  But 
this  officer  was  chased  back  to  his  ships  by  Arnold  and 
"Wooster ;  the  latter,  though  nearly  three  score  and  ten,  gal- 
lantly leading  on  his  men  till  shot  down  by  the  enemy. 


Tearing  down  Statue  of  George  III. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  233 

Another  expedition  was  sent  against  Peekskill.  These, 
however,  were  mere  by  plays,  to  occupy  the  troops  till  the 
time  for  a  grand  and  decided  movement  should  arrive. 

Meanwhile  Washington  waited  the  further  development 
of  the  plans  of  the  enemy.  The  troops  assembling  from 
the  East  he  ordered  to  concentrate  at  Peekskill,  while  those 
from  the  Middle  States  and  Virginia  were  directed  to  join 
him  at  Morristown.  It  was  evident  that  an  enterprise  was 
on  foot,  designed  to  crush  the  colonies  at  once,  but  in  which 
direction  the  blow  was  about  to  fall  remained  in  obscurity. 
A  storm  was  brewing  on  the  Canadian  frontier,  and  whether 
Howe  was  preparing  to  cooperate  with  any  movement  in 
that  direction,  or  push  his  way  on  to  Philadelphia,  could 
only  be  conjectured. 

In  the  meantime,  internal  troubles  continued  to  vex  and 
embarrass  the  commander-in-chief  even  more  than  the  con 
duct  of  the  enemy.  The  constant  reports  of  men  deserting — 
letters  from  officers  all  over  the  country,  complaining  of  the 
neglect  and  injustice  of  Congress,  and  offering  their  resig- 
nation— -the  want  of  money  arid  a  commissary-general  fur- 
nished daily  and  almost  hourly  annoyances  which  he  had 
no  power  to  escape.  To  some,  like  Arnold,  he  replied  in 
the  language  of  friendship  and  sympathy,  to  others  he  wrote 
sternly  and  rebukingly.  Sullivan  received  a  severe  repri- 
mand for  his  childish  complaints  about  not  being  entrusted 
with  a  separate  command.  Gates  a  lighter  one,  for  asserting 
that  an  equal  distribution  of  tents,  etc.  was  not  made  to 
the  different  sections  of  the  army.  While  the  different 
military  departments  were  thus  exhibiting  only  weakness, 
Lieut.  Col.  Meigs,  a  companion  of  Arnold  in  his  bold  march 
through  the  wilderness,  showed  what  a  single  enterprising 
officer  could  do.  Embarking  on  the  21st  of  May  from  New 
Haven,  he  sailed  for  Guilford,  and  there  taking  with  him 
a  hundred  and  seventy  men,  in  whale-boats,  crossed  over  to 
Southold,  and  dragging  his  boats  over  land  to  the  bay  be- 

13 


234  LIFE'OF  WASHINGTON. 

tween  the  north  and  south  branches  of  the  island,  pushed 
on  to  Sag  Harbor,  where  he  arrived  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  immediately  with  fixed  bayonets  charged  the 
outposts  of  the  British  stationed  there.  The  alarm  was  in- 
stantly given,  and  an  armed  schooner  with  twelve  guns  and 
seventy  men  opened  its  fire  upon  the  Americans  within  less 
than  thirty  rods.  The  gallant  detachment,  however,  pressed 
forward,  driving  the  enemy  before  them,  and  having  killed 
and  captured  nearly  a  hundred  men,  and  destroyed  twelve 
brigs  and  sloops  and  a  large  quantity  of  merchandise,  retired 
without  the  loss  of  a  man.  Col.  Meigs  reached  Guilford 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  having  marched  and  rowed 
ninety  miles  in  twenty-five  hours,  besides  fighting  the  ene- 
my and  destroying  his  ships  and  stores. 

At  length  Washington  moved  his  army,  [May  21,]  four- 
teen thousand  strong,  to  Middlebrook,  and  intrenched  himself 
in  a  strong  position,  resolved  to  give  battle  if  the  enemy  ad- 
vanced. Howe,  who  had  collected  a  large  force  at  Brunswick, 
only  nine  miles  distant,  [June  31 ,]  pushed  his  lines  into  the 
country  until  his  left  rested  on  Millstone.  Here  he  remained 
a  week,  hoping  to  tempt  Washington  from  his  stronghold  to 
battle.  But  the  latter  having  long  before  discovered  what 
his  raw  troops  were  worth  in  an  open  field  fight,  refused  to  stir 
from  his  position.  Howe  then  returned  to  Brunswick, 
evacuated  it,  and  retreated  to  Amboy,  pursued  and  harassed 
by  General  Greene,  with  three  regiments.  Washington 
followed  with  the  main  army  to  Quibble  town.  The  moment 
Howe  saw  that  he  had  decoyed  Washington  out  into  the 
open  country,  wheeled,  and  marched  swiftly  to  the  Ameri- 
can left,  hoping  to  turn  it  and  gain  the  high  ground  beyond* 
Had  he  succeeded,  a  battle  would  have  been  inevitable. 
Washington,  however,  was  too  quick  for  him.  The  roar 
of  cannon,  and  heavy  explosions  of  small  arms  in  that 
direction,  as  the  enemy  came  in  collision  with  a  detachment 
of  seven  hundre'l  Americans,  revealed  the  well-laid  scheme. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  235 

Though  severely  pressed,  he  fell  back,  and  reached  his 
strong  position  at  Midcllebrook  in  safetjr.  As  soon  as  Howe 
saw  Washington  quietly  in  his  den  again,  he  gave  up  all 
attempts  to  bring  on  an  engagement,  and,  abruptly  leaving 
the  Jerseys,  passed  over  to  Staten  Island.  Washington,  who 
from  boyhood  had  shown  a  peculiar  love  of  agricultural 
pursuits,  indeed  seems  to  have  had  a  positive  attachment  to 
the  soil,  saw  with  pleasure  the  withdrawal  of  the  troops. 
It  pained  him  deeply  to  behold  the  green  fields  ready  for 
the  mower,  filled  with  the  marching  columns,  and  the  ripen- 
ing grain  trampled  down  by  the  ruthless  hoof  of  war,  or 
wrapt  in  conflagration.  In  a  letter  to  Armstrong,  he  says, 
"  The  evacuation  of  Jersey  at  this  time  seems  to  be  a  pecu- 
liar mark  of  Providence,  as  the  inhabitants  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  securing  their  harvests  of  hay  and  grain."  The 
farmer  was  never  forgotten  in  the  warrior,  and  the  husband- 
man always  received  his  peculiar  attention. 

The  relief  which  this  apparent  abandonment  of  all  im- 
mediate attempts  against  Philadelphia  gave,  was  only 
momentary,  for  on  the  very  next  day  a  courier  arrived  in 
camp,  bringing  the  astounding  intelligence  that  Burgoyne, 
with  ten  thousand  men,  an  artillery  train  of  forty  pieces,  the 
whole  commanded  by  officers  of  experience  and  renown, 
had  crossed  the  St.  Lawrence  from  Canada,  and  was  moving 
against  Ticonderoga.  Whether  Howe,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, would  renew  his  attempts  against  Philadelphia, 
or  endeavor  to  form  a  junction  with  Burgoyne,  and  thus 
separate  the  New  England  provinces  from  their  brethren, 
was  the  important  problem  which  Washington  endeavored 
to  solve.  If  the  former  course  was  adopted  he  must  hover 
around  Philadelphia ;  if  the  latter,  his  army  could  not  be 
too  soon  in  the  strong  passes  of  the  Highlands.  Howe  was 
certainly  collecting  a  large  fleet,  and  evidently  either  for 
the  purpose  of  ascending  the  Hudson,  or  of  going  by  sea  to 
Philadelphia.  At  length  news  was  brought  that  the  British 


236  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

army  was  embarking.  Washington  immediately  dispatched 
Lord  Stirling  to  Peekskill,  while  he  himself,  still  uncertain 
of  the  enemy's  purpose,  slowly  followed  by  way  of  Ramapo, 
and  finally  encamped  in  the  pass  of  the  Clove.  In  the 
meantime  he  ordered  the  two  brigades  of  Parsons  and 
Varnum  from  the  east  to  Peekskill — wrote  to  Governor 
Clinton  to  call  out  the  militia,  and  hastened  off  a  courier  to 
Schuyler,  who  commanded  in  the  northern  department,  to 
hold  on  to  Ticonderoga.  All  eyes  were  suddenly  turned  to 
the  northward,  where  the  great  and  decisive  conflict  seemed 
about  to  take  place.  Roused  by  the  impending  danger,  the 
settlers  along  the  rich  banks  of  the  Mohawk,  and  the  hardy 
yeomanry  of  Vermont  and  Massachusetts,  and  Connecticut 
and  New  York  left  their  fields  burdened  with  the  rich  pro- 
mise of  a  coming  harvest,  and  hastened  to  strike  hands  and 
move  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  battle-cry  of  freedom 
on  their  lips,  against  the  common  invader. 

But  while  Burgoyne  was  slowly  pushing  the  heads  of  his 
massive  columns  through  the  northern  wilderness,  the  fleet 
of  Howe  hoisted  sail  and  moved  slowly  down  toward  the 
Hook.  The  news  no  sooner  reached  Washington  than  he 
dispatched  messengers  to  Sullivan  and  Stirling,  at  Peekskill, 
ordering  them  instantly  to  recross  the  Hudson,  and  hasten 
by  the  most  direct  routes  to  the  banks  of  the  Delaware, 
where  he  would  wait  their  arrival.  But  though  the  vessels 
were  moving  seaward,  he  was  still  doubtful  of  Howe's  de- 
signs, and  resolved  to  remain  where  he  was  till  he  could 
ascertain  them  more  fully.  At  length  it  was  reported  that 
the  ships  had  been  seen  off  the  Capes  of  the  Delaware.  The 
army  was  then  marched  rapidly  to  Germantown,  and  Wash- 
ington hurried  forward  to  Chester,  to  gather  more  accurate 
intelligence.  Here  he  was  told  that  the  fleet  had  again 
stood  to  the  eastward  and  disappeared.  Baffled  by  this 
strange  conduct — without  the  least  data  to  act  on,  Washing- 
ton was  compelled  to  base  his  movements  entirely  on  con- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

jecture.  It  was  plain  that  nothing  could  be  done  till  the 
enemy's  plans  developed  themselves  more  fully.  He,  there- 
fore, ordered  Sullivan  to  take  post  in  New  Jersey,  ready  to 
move  in  either  direction,  while  the  main  army  was  quar- 
tered at  Germantown,  prepared  to  march  at  a  moment's 
warning. 

While  things  were  in  this  harassing  and  trying  state  of 
suspense,  Washington  rode  over  to  Philadelphia,  to  confer  a 
day  or  two  with  committees  of  Congress.  He  here,  for  the 
first  time,  met  the  young  Marquis  of  Lafayette,  whose  ar- 
dent and  noble  espousal  of  our  cause  eventually  wrought 
such  a  change  in  our  prospects.  A  mere  stripling,  eighteen 
years  of  age,  rolling  in  wealth,  and  basking  in  the  sunshine 
of  court  favor,  he  tore  himself  away  from  all  the  luxuries 
that  surrounded  him — from  the  arms  of  a  young  and  af- 
fectionate wife,  whose  expostulations  and  reproaches  were 
harder  to  be  borne  than  the  threats  of  his  friends  and  frowns 
of  his  king,  to  struggle  in  an  almost  hopeless  cause,  in  a 
foreign  land.  Purchasing  a  vessel,  and  clothing  and  arms 
for  soldiers  at  his  own  expense,  he,  with  the  brave  De  Kalb 
and  eleven  other  officers  set  sail  for  America.  After  a  voy- 
age of  nearly  two  months,  he  reached  Charleston,  and,  dis- 
tributing arms  and  clothing  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  the 
gallant  defenders  of  Sullivan's  Island,  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  nine  hundred  miles  to  Philadelphia. 

Silas  Deane  had  been  for  some  time  our  minister  at  Paris, 
and  with  Franklin  and  Arthur  Lee,  who  were  afterward 
added  to  the  embassy,  was  endeavoring  to  enlist  France  in 
our  struggle.  With  the  former  young  Lafayette  had  made 
an  agreement  respecting  the  rank  he  was  to  hold  in  the  rebel 
army.  But  Congress  received  the  letters  which  he  presented 
coldly,  for  it  had  been  much  embarrassed  of  late  with  ap- 
plications of  foreign  officers  for  appointments,  which,  if 
made,  would  deeply  offend  our  own  officers.  Only  a  few 
weeks  before,  Knox,  Greene,  and  Sullivan,  hearing  that  a 


238  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Frenchman  by  the  name  of  Decoudray,  had  been  appointed 
major-general,  his  appointment  to  be  antedated,  so  as  to  out- 
rank them,  abruptly  sent  in  their  resignations.  Besides  all 
other  considerations  Lafayette  was  a  mere  boy,  only  nineteen 
years  of  age,  and  could  not  be  considered  fit  for  a  position 
of  responsibility.  Being  told  that  his  request  would  proba- 
bly be  denied,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  a  note  to  Congress, 
saying — "  After  the  sacrifices  I  have  made,  I  have  the  right 
to  exact  two  favors;  one  is  to  serve  at  my  own  expense,  the  other 
to  serve  at  first  as  a  volunteer"  This  magnanimity  was  too 
much  for  Congress,  and  it  immediately  made  out  his  com- 
mission. The  next  day  he  was  introduced  to  Washington 
at  a  dinner  party.  As  it  was  about  breaking  up,  the  latter 
took  him  aside  and  spoke  to  him  long  and  tenderly.  The 
tall,  commanding  general  of  nearly  fifty,  and  that  youth  of 
nineteen,  presented  a  most  interesting  contrast  as  the  one 
spoke  of  freedom,  and  the  other  stood  and  reverently 
listened,  every  feature  beaming  with  excitement.  There 
was  something  in  the  enthusiastic  love  for  liberty  of  this 
young  stranger— the  revelation  of  an  exalted  purpose,  not 
to  be  shaken  by  neglect  or  suffering — a  noble,  unselfish  de- 
votion, so  unlike  the  petty  rivalries,  groundless  jealousies, 
and  selfish  behavior  of  some  of  his  own  officers,  that  touched 
the  tenderest  chord  of  Washington's  nature.  His  great, 
grand  heart  opened  to  him  at  once  like  a  father,  and  from 
that  hour  Lafayette  became  a  son,  returning  the  wealth  of 
affection  lavished  on  him  with  all  the  devotion  of  his  im- 
pulsive, impassioned,  generous  nature.  Washington  told 
him  to  consider  himself  at  all  times  as  one  of  his  own 
family,  but  he  must  not  expect  to  find  in  the  republican 
army,  the  luxuries  of  a  court,  or  the  comforts  even  of  an 
ordinary  camp.  Both  the  one  and  the  other  were  indifferent 
to  Lafayette,  who  had  already  triumphed  over  infinitely 
greater  difficulties,  and  endured  more  suffering  than  could 
be  meted  out  to  him  in  the  American  army.  That  night  he 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  239 

sent  his  horses  and  equipage  to  camp,  and  became  an  Ameri- 
can soldier.  His  after  career  in  connection  with  our  cause, 
and  with  Washington,  furnishes  some  of  the  most  interest- 
ing incidents  in  American  history.  That  apparently  boyish 
enthusiasm  proved  to  be  the  solid  judgment  and  inherent 
principles  of  the  man,  and  as  he  stood  in  all  the  fiery  ardor 
of  youth  before  Washington,  so  he  afterward  stood  with 
white  locks  amid  the  infuriated  mobs  of  Paris  and  Ver- 
sailles. The  impression  Washington  made  on  him  may  be 
inferred  from  the  letter  describing  his  first  interview.  In 
it  he  says — "  Although  he  was  surrounded  by  officers  and 
citizens,  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  for  a  moment  his  ma- 
jestic figure  and  deportment."  His  surprise,  however,  at 
the  army  was  equal  to  his  admiration  of  Washington.  On 
me  very  day  he  arrived  in  camp  there  was  a  grand  review 
of  the  whole  eleven  thousand  men,  and  the  young  marquis 
never  before  even  in  imagination  beheld  such  a  spectacle. 
Many  were  in  their  shirt  sleeves — many  without  any  shirts 
to  their  backs,  their  whole  uniform  consisting  of  a  pair  of 
pantaloons,  while  the  majority  of  those  who  were  clad  wore 
simply  long  linen  hunting- shirts.  These  were  drawn  up  in 
two  long  lines — the  smaller  soldiers  occupying  the  first 
line — presenting  a  most  striking  contrast  to  the  military 
bearing  and  manner  of  their  commander.  "  As  to  their 
military  tactics"  he  wrote  home,  "  it  will  be  sufficient  to  say 
that  for  a  regiment  ranged  in  order  of  battle,  to  move  forward  on 
the  right  of  its  line  it  was  necessary  for  the  left  to  make  a  con- 
tinued countermarch."  The  next  day  Washington  took 
Lafayette  with  him  to  inspect  the  fortifications  of  the  Dela- 
ware. As  they  rode  along  together,  the  former  soon  dis- 
covered that  his  young  protege  possessed  a  knowledge  of 
military  matters  by  which  the  oldest  generals  in  the  service 
might  profit. 

Though  Congress  continued  its  sessions  in  apparent  tran- 
quillity, the  greatest  excitement  prevailed  throughout  the 


240  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

city  and  country.     Sentinels  were  on  every  high  peak  that 
overlooked  the  ocean,  sweeping  the  water  in  every  direction 
with  glasses  to  detect  the  first  appearance  of  the  fleet,  whose 
approach  was  so  much  dreaded.     But  day  after  day  passed 
by,  and  still  no  tidings  of  it  came  from  the  seaboard.     At 
last  the  lookouts  caught  a  glimpse  of  it,  leagues  away  to 
the  south  of  the  capes  of  Delaware.     Washington  imme- 
diately inferred  that  its   destination  was  south,  probably 
Charleston.     Ten  days  more   passed  by,  and   as  nothing 
further  was  seen  of  it,  a  council  of  war  was  called,  in  which 
it  was  resolved  to  march  back  toward  the  Hudson,  either  to 
operate  against  Burgoyne,  or,  if  circumstances  proved  fa- 
vorable, to  attack  New  York.     Every  thing  was  got  ready 
to  march,  when  on  that  very  morning  the  exciting  report  was 
brought  that  the  fleet  was  already  two  hundred  miles  up  the 
Chesapeake  Bay,  and  standing  steadily  on.    It  was  now  evi- 
dent that  Philadelphia  was  the  object  of  attack,  though,  as 
Washington  said,  the  enemy  had  taken  a  strange  route  to 
reach  it.     This  at  once  relieved  him  from  all  indecision  re- 
specting the  northern  army.    Previous  to  this,  not  only  was 
he  annoyed  beyond  measure  by  the  surrender  of  Ticonde- 
roga,  the  defense  of  which  had  been  entrusted  to  St.  Clair, 
but  at  the  apparently  resistless  manner  in  which  Burgoyne 
moved  southward.     He  had  sent  the  gallant  Morgan  with 
his  five  hundred  riflemen  north,  and  in  announcing  it  to 
Governor  Clinton  said  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good  plan 
to  let  the  fact  be  pretty  well  circulated,  as  well  as  to  ex- 
aggerate their  numbers,  for  these  troops  were  the  terror  of 
the  Indians.    In  this,  which  is  dated  on  the  very  day  of  the 
battle  of  Bennington,  he  speaks  of  Stark's  intention  to  close 
on  Burgoyne's  rear  as  a  most  excellent  plan.     As  things 
grew  worse  and  worse,  Congress  recalled  both  Schuyler  and 
St.  Clair,  and  put  Gates  over  the  northern  army.     Wash- 
ington had  also  sent  Arnold  north,  a  host  in  himself.     Still, 
so  long  as  Howe's  movements  remained  undeveloped  he  could 


liii'.'  his  Gun 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  243 

not  call  on  the  New  England  states  to  hasten  to  New  York 
state  to  resist  the  invasion  of  Burgoyne.  But  now  all  im- 
mediate danger  to  the  eastern  board  was  removed,  and  he 
wrote  to  Putnam  to  press  on  Governor  Trumbull  the  urgent 
necessity  of  getting  the  whole  force  of  New  England  "  to 
turn  out,  and  by  following  the  great  stroke  struck  by  General 
Stark  near  Bennington,  entirely  crush  General  Burgoyne" 

In  the  meantime  the  militia  from  Delaware,  Maryland 
and  Pennsylvania  turned  out,  and  the  country  was  alive 
with  armed  citizens,  hastening  to  the  defense  of  Philadel- 
phia. Sullivan,  who  had  just  been  rudely  repulsed  in  an 
attack  on  Staten  Island,  was  also  ordered  from  the  Jerseys, 
and  the  army  soon  assumed  a  formidable  appearance,  at 
least  in  magnitude. 

At  length  the  reconnoitering  parties  came  in  and  an- 
nounced that  the  enemy  were  landing  near  the  head  of  Elk 
river.  [Aug.  25th.]  Washington  advanced  to  meet  them, 
and  taking  Philadelphia  in  his  route,  marched  through  the 
city  with  flying  banners  and  martial  music,  cheered  by  the 
multitude.  This  was  done  to  encourage  the  patriots  and 
check  the  movements  of  the  disaffected  and  disloyal.  The 
next  day  after  the  British  effected  a  landing  a  heavy  rain 
storm  set  in,  which  deluged  both  friends  and  foes,  and  in- 
jured the  arms  and  ammunition  of  each.  Washington  at 
the  outset  sent  forward  skirmishing  parties  to  harass  the 
enemy,  while  he  pressed  on  with  the  main  army.  Between 
these  and  the  advance  detachments  of  the  British  severe 
conflicts  took  place,  ending,  of  course,  in  the  retreat  of  the 
Americans,  as  the  heavy  columns  of  their  adversaries  closed 
upon  them.  On  the  28th  the  Americans  took  some  forty 
prisoners.  Twenty  deserters  also  arrived  in  camp,  who 
stated  that  the  infantry  of  the  enemy  was  in  good  condi- 
tion, but  that  the  horses  were  knocked  up  by  their  long 
voyage.  This  was  fortunate,  as  Washington's  cavalry,  under 


244  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Pulaski,*  wag  too  feeble  to  cope  with  any  considerable  force, 
while  the  country  presented  an  admirable  field  for  the  move- 
ments of  horse. 

The  next  day  Captain  Lee  took  twenty-four  more  prison- 
ers. Five  days  after,  Cornwallis,  while  advancing  with  his 
column,  was  suddenly  assailed  by  Maxwell's  regiment,  the 
riflemen  of  which,  having  formed  a  sort  of  ambuscade, 
poured  in  a  deadly  fire  upon  him.  But  swept  by  the  ar- 
tillery and  pressed  by  the  formidable  masses  of  the  enemy, 
this  brave  regiment  was  compelled  to  retire  with  the  loss 
of  forty  killed  and  wounded.  The  British  reported  their 
loss  to  be  twenty -two,  though  a  woman  from  their  camp 
next  day  said  she  saw  nine  wagon  loads  of  wounded  brought 
in.  They  doubtless  suffered  more  severely  than  they  ac- 
knowledged ;  in  fact,  as  a  rule,  it  was  always  safe  to  multi- 
ply the  current  account  given  by  the  enemy  of  their  loss 
by  three.  The  two  armies  had  continued  to  draw  closer 
together,  and  now  stood  front  to  front,  and  a  battle  was 
daily  expected.  Philadelphia  was  the  prize  to  be  struggled 
for,  and  Howe  and  "Washington  both  determined  that  the 
conflict  should  be  a  decisive  one.  The  latter  took  position 
behind  Red  Clay  Creek,  directly  across  the  route  leading  to 
the  city.  Howe  then  advanced,  and  being  joined  by  General 
Grant,  made  a  feint  to  attack  the  Americans,  but. instead  of 
concentrating  his  forces  at  the  assailing  point,  extended  his 
lines  far  away  to  the  American  right.  The  two  armies 
were  now  only  two  miles  apart,  and  threatened  momentarily 
to  come  in  collision,  when  Howe  ordered  a  halt.  Washing- 
ton, whose  experience  during  the  last  campaign  had  taught 
him  to  distrust  every  movement  of  Howe,  soon  discovered 
that  a  flank  movement  was  being  made  to  cut  him  off  from 

*  Previous  to  this  there  had  been  no  officer  in  the  cavalry  of  higher  rank  than 
colonel.  Reed,  after  being  made  brigadier,  was  offered  the  command,  but  declined. 
It  was  then  given  to  Count  Pulaski,  a  Polish  officer  of  great  distinction  and 
bravery. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  245 

Philadelphia,  and  hem  him  in  on  a  narrow  tongue  of  land 
from  which  escape  would  be  impossible,  and  where  he  would 
be  compelled  under  disadvantageous  circumstances  to  fight 
a  decisive  battle.  He  therefore,  after  carefully  reconnoi- 
tering  the  enemy,  passed  the  order  quietly  through  the 
camp  to  march,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the 
9th  of  September  withdrew  his  army  toward  the  Brandy- 
wine,  and  crossing  the  river,  took  possession  of  the  high 
grounds  on  the  'opposite  side,  near  Chad's  Ford. 

While  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Delaware  and  Mary- 
land were  gazing  with  mingled  expectations  and  fears  on  the 
two  armies  under  Washington  and  Howe,  as  they  slowly 
closed  on  each  other,  and  the  whole  country  was  filled  with 
conflicting  rumors,  agitating  and  cheering  by  turns,  the 
works  were  rapidly  going  up  at  Saratoga,  from  which  was 
to  recoil  the  veteran  army  of  Burgoyne.  Stark  had  dealt 
him  a  staggering  blow  by  his  victory  over  Baum  at  Ben- 
nington,  while  Gansevoort's  gallant  defense  of  Fort  Stanwix, 
had  frustrated  his  plans  in  that  direction.  From  every  val- 
ley and  mountain  slope  the  sturdy  yeomanry  went  pouring 
in  to  Gates,  their  patriotism  kindled  into  brighter  glow  by 
the  shouts  of  victory  that  came  rolling  from  Vermont,  and 
down  the  Mohawk  from  Fort  Stanwix  and  the  bloody  field 
of  Oriskany;  and  their  rage  redoubled  to  see  the  enemy 
with  his  ruthless  savage  allies  in  the  very  midst  of  their 
autumnal  fields,  and  ravaging  the  firesides  of  the  innocent 
and  the  helpless.  Washington's  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  the 
northern  army  was  equal  to  that  for  his  own,  and  he  listened 
with  as  deep  a  solicitude  for  the  reports  that  might  reach 
him  thence,  as  he  did  to  the  thunder  of  the  enemy's  cannon 
in  his  front.  In  the  meantime,  Burgoyne  finding  himself 
cut  off  from  the  assistance  of  St.  Leger  by  way  of  the  Mo- 
hawk, and  a  dark  storm-cloud  gathering  in  his  rear,  extin- 
guishing the  last  hope  that  illumined  the  weary  wilderness 
he  had  traversed,  and  seeing  a  mighty  army  rising  as  it 


246  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

were  from  the  very  earth  before  him,  surveyed  with  a  stern 
and  gloomy  eye  the  prospect  that  surrounded  him.  The 
second  crisis  in  the  American  Revolution  had  come.  With 
the  simultaneous  defeat  of  the  northern  and  southern  armies 
the  nation  would  be  prostrated,  and  the  last  hope  of  securing 
the  alliance  of  France  extinguished.  Two  such  calamities 
would  darken  the  land  with  despair,  and  fill  the  friends  of 
freedom  every  where  with  despondency  and  gloom. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  247 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Battle  of  Brandywine — A  new  account  of  the  loss  of  the  British,  found  among 
General  Clinton's  papers — Washington  again  offers  Howe  battle — Defeat  of 
Wayne  at  Paoli — Philadelphia  taken — Fortifications  erected  at  Mud  Bank  and 
Red  Bank — Tenacity  of  Washington — Battle  of  Germantown— Cause  of  the  De- 
feat of  the  Americans. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  llth  of  September  the  American 
army,  eleven  thousand  strong,  lay  stretched  along  the  Bran- 
dywine, whose  shallow  bed  at  that  time,  the  stream  being 
very  low,  furnished  frequent  fording-places.  Washington 
concentrated  his  main  force  against  the  most  important  of 
these,  called  Chads'  Ford.  The  right  wing,  composed  of 
the  three  brigades  of  Sullivan,  Stirling,  and  Stephens,  ex- 
tended up  the  river,  to  look  out  for  the  fords  in  that  direction, 
while  Armstrong  with  a  thousand  militia  guarded  Pyles'  Ford, 
the  only  one  below.  At  daybreak  Howe  put  half  of  his 
force  under  Cornwallis,  and  accompanying  it  in  person,  took 
a  road  running  nearly  parallel  with  the  Brandywine,  a  few 
miles  inland,  for  the  purpose  of  ascending  the  stream  be- 
yond the  farthest  outposts  of  the  American  army,  and  cross- 
ing it  unperceived,  come  down  on  Washington's  flank.  This 
extraordinary  movement,  by  which  an  army  was  separated 
seventeen  miles,  a  movement  similar  to  one  which,  but  from 
mere  accident  or  treachery,  would  have  overthrown  the 
allies  at  Waterloo,  here  also,  by  a  strange  fatuity,  was 
destined  to  be  completely  successful.  It  was  a  foggy  morn- 
ing, and  a  dense  forest  darkened  the  bank  of  the  stream,  on 
the  side  where  the  British  lay,  almost  the  entire  distance. 
About  nine  o'clock  Knyphausen,  with  the  other  division  of 
the  army,  took  up  his  line  of  march  directly  for  Chads' 
Ford,  where  Wayne  commanded.  The  fog  soon  lifted  and 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

rolled  away,  and  the  long  lines  of  gleaming  bayonets  looked 
like  streams  of  light  through  the  forest,  as  in  beautiful 
order,  and  to  the  sound  of  fife  and  drum  the  columns 
pushed  their  way  to  the  river.  But  the  woods  as  they  pro- 
ceeded seemed  alive  with  Americans,  who,  concealed  by  the 
thick  foliage,  kept  up  an  incessant  attack  upon  the  advance 
parties  and  strewed  the  green  uniforms  thickly  under  the 
greener  arcades.  Maxwell,  who  commanded  them,  made 
such  havoc  with  his  sharp-shooters  that  a  strong  corps  was 
sent  against  him,  which  forced  him  back  upon  the  Brandy- 
wine.  Here,  met  by  reinforcements,  he  turned  furiously 
on  his  pursuers,  driving  them  before  him  till  they  closed 
in  with  the  main  column.  Knyphausen  then  sent  a  large 
detachment  to  take  Maxwell  in  flank,  but  the  latter  de- 
tecting the  movement,  ordered  a  retreat  and  recrossed  to 
Wayne.  Having  cleared  the  woods  of  the  enemy,  Knyp- 
hausen moved  forward  and  drew  up  his  division  on  the  bank 
and  began  to  plant  his  cannon.  The  Americans  were  in 
high  spirits,  and  several  detachments  boldly  dashed  into  the 
stream,  and  securing  a  footing  on  the  farther  side,  fell  with 
loud  shouts  on  the  working  parties  and  those  detailed  to 
guard  them.  Knyphausen,  enraged  at  these  constant  and 
bold  attacks,  ordered  forward  a  large  force,  which  advancing 
to  the  charge  forced  the  Americans  to  a  rapid  retreat. 
They  came  on  a  run  through  the  water  which  was  dashed 
into  spray  by  the  shower  of  bullets  that  fell  around  them. 
In  the  meantime  Knyphausen  opened  a  heavy  cannonade 
on  Wayne,  who  returned  it  with  spirit,  and  to  all  appear- 
ance the  main  effort  was  to  be  made  at  this  ford.  The 
former  manoeuvered  his  troops  so  as  to  convey  the  impres- 
sion of  a  much  larger  force  than  he  possessed,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  was  apparently  making  extensive  preparations 
for  an  immediate  assault  on  Wayne's  battery.  While 
Washington  was  watching  the  effect  of  this  heavy  cannon- 
ade, Sullivan,  who  had  been  ordered  to  take  care  of  the 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  249 

fords  above  him,  received  the  following  note  from  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Ross : 

"  Great  Valley  Road,  11  o'clock,  A.  M. 

DEAR  GENERAL, — A  large  body  of  the  enemy,  from  every 
account  five  thousand,  with  sixteen  or  eighteen  field-pieces, 
marched  along  this  road  just  now.  This  road  leads  to  Tay- 
lor's Ferry,  and  Jeffrey's  Ferry  on  the  Brandywine,  and  to 
the  Great  Valley  at  the  sign  of  the  Ship,  on  the  Lancaster 
Road  to  Philadelphia.  There  is  also  a  road  from  the  Brandy- 
wine  to  Chester,  by  Dilworthstown.  We  are  close  in  their 
rear  with  about  seventy  men.  Captain  Simpson  lay  in  am- 
bush with  twenty  men,  and  gave  them  three  rounds  within 
a  small  distance,  in  which  two  of  his  men  were  wounded, 
one  mortally,  I  believe.  General  Howe  is  with  this  party, 
as  Joseph  Galloway  is  here  known  by  the  inhabitants,  with 
whom  he  spoke  and  told  them  that  General  Howe  was  with 
him.  Yours,  JAMES  Ross, 

Lieutenant -Colonel. 

Here  was  accurate  information  from  a  responsible  officer, 
and  every -road  designated  by  him  should  have  been  secured 
beyond  the  Brandywine.  Ross  had  seen  the  army,  nay, 
fired  into  it,  and  was  steadily  following  it  in  its  rapid  march 
up  the  river.  Its  destination  was  apparent  to  the  most 
casual  observer,  and  how,  after  such  information,  Sullivan 
could  allow  himself  to  be  surprised  by  an  army  of  five 
thousand  men,  dragging  a  heavy  train  of  artillery  after  them 
baffles  all  explanation. 

Washington  immediately  penetrated  Howe's  design,  and 
resolved  to  defeat  it  by  sending  Sullivan  to  occupy  him, 
while  he,  with  the  rest  of  the  army,  would  cross  over,  and 
falling  on  Knyphausen  in  rear  and  front  at  the  same  time, 
crush  him  before  the  other  division  could  arrive.  This 
daring  resolution  was  the  inspiration  of  true  genius,  and  had 
it  been  carried  into  effect,  Brandywine  would  doubtles  have 
been  another  Saratoga  to  the  British.  He  issued  his  orders 


250  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

at  once,  and  riding  along  the  lines  to  animate  the  troops, 
was  received  with  loud  huzzas;  and  "long  live  Washington," 
rolled  over  the  field.  General  Greene  was  ordered  to  lead 
the  advance,  and  crossing  above  Knyphausen  assail  him  in 
flank  and  rear.  In  a  few  minutes  the  field  was  alive  with 
the  marching  columns.  At  this  critical  moment  another 
aid  came  galloping  in  from  Sullivan,  who  reported  no  ene- 
my around  the  forks  of  the  Brandy  wine.  This  was  a  fatal 
mistake,  and  Washington  immediately  reversed  his  orders, 
and  the  army  again  took  up  its  former  position.  It  was 
now  high  noon,  and  Knyphausen  having  received  dispatches 
from  Cornwallis  announcing  that  the  river  was  won,  opened 
on  the  Americans  with  a  tremendous  discharge  of  artillery 
and  musketry,  so  as  still  more  to  confirm  the  delusion  under 
which  he  saw  Washington  was  evidently  laboring. 

In  the  meantime  Cornwallis  had  formed  his  troops  on 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  and  was  coming  rapidly  down  on 
Sullivan's  flank. 

A  Squire  Cheney,  reconnoitering  on  his  own  responsibility 
the  movements  of  the  enemy,  suddenly  came  upo'n  the  ad- 
vance as  he  was  ascending  a  hill.  He  immediately  wheeled 
his  horse,  a  fleet,  high-spirited  animal,  and  dashed  away  to- 
ward head-quarters.  Shots  were  fired  at  him,  but  he  escaped 
and  reached  the  American  army  in  safety.  To  his  startling 
declaration  that  the  main  body  of  the  enemy  was  on  his 
own  side  of  the  stream,  and  coming  rapidly  down  upon 
him,  Washington  replied  that  it  was  impossible,  for  he  had 
just  received  contrary  information.  "  You  are  mistaken  Gen- 
eral, my  life  for  it  you  are  mistaken,"  exclaimed  Cheney,  and 
carried  away  by  the  great  peril  that  threatened  the  Ameri- 
cans, added,  "  By  h — 11  it  is  so ;  put  me  under  guard  until 
you  find  my  story  true,"  and,  stooping  down,  he  drew  a 
rough  draft  of  the  road  in  the  sand.  In  a  few  moments  a 
hurried  note  from  Sullivan  confirmed  the  disastrous  tidings. 
The  enemy  were  only  two  miles  from  the  Birmingham 


\Va>liiMi;tt>M  emli-:noriiit'  tu  rallv  t 


ii-  b  uiritive*. 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  253 

Meeting-House,  which  was  but  three  miles  from  Chads' 
Ford.  Washington  saw  at  once  the  fatal  error  into  which 
he  had  been  beguiled  by  the  false  information  of  Sullivan, 
and  saw,  too,  that  in  all  human  probability  the  day  was  lost. 
Suddenly  calling  to  his  side  his  aids,  he  asked  if  there  was 
any  one  near  acquainted  with  the  country,  who  could  guide 
him  by  the  shortest  route  to  Birmingham  Meeting-House. 
An  elderly  man  named  Brown,  living  in  the  vicinity,  was 
instantly  seized  and  asked  to  act  as  guide.  He  began  to 
make  excuses,  when  one  of  Washington's  'aids,  mounted  on 
a  splendid  charger,  leaped  to  the  ground  and  told  the  old 
man  to  mount  at  once,  and  conduct  the  General  by  the 
shortest,  quickest  route  to  the  meeting-house,  or  he  would 
run  him  through  with  his  sword.  Alarmed  by  the  threat, 
Brown  mounted  and  pushed  straight  across  the  country,  his 
high-bred  animal  taking  the  fences  in  his  course  like  a 
hunter.  Washington  with  his  suite  pressed  after,  and 
though  the  old  man  seemed  to  fly  over  the  fields  and  fences, 
the  head  of  Washington's  horse  constantly  lapped  the  flank 
of  the  animal  he  rode,  and  there  rung  continually  in  his 
ears  from  the  excited,  anxious  chieftain  by  his  side,  "  Push 
along  old  man  ;  push  along  old  man."  The  fate  of  his  army 
was  trembling  in  the  balance,  and  no  fleetness  could  equal 
his  burning  impatience  to  be  at  the  point  where  it  was  so 
soon  to  be  decided,  for  already  the  loud  roar  of  cannon  and 
rattle  of  musketry  ahead,  told  him  that  the  shock  had  come. 
The  tremendous  cannonading  at  Chads'  Ford,  blending  in 
with  that  around  Birmingham  Meeting-House,  needed  no 
additional  confirmation  of  the  deep  disaster  that  had  over- 
taken him.  As  he  approached  the  scene  of  conflict  the 
balls  fell  so  thick  around  him  that  the  old  man  stole  away. 
His  absence  was  unnoticed,  for  his  services  were  no  longer 
needed ;  the  roar  of  battle  and  shouts  of  men  were  a  suffi- 
cient guide.  When  Washington  first  set  out  he  had  ordered 

Greene  to  advance  with  his  division,  as  fast  as  possible,  to 

14 


254  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  support  of  Sullivan.  The  latter  with  two  brigades  im- 
mediately pushed  forward.  The  brigade  under  Weadon  led 
off,  and  starting  on  a  trot,  with  trailed  arms,  made  the  four 
miles  that  intervened  between  them  and  the  enemy  in  the 
astonishingly  short  time  of  forty  minutes.  Not  a  sound  was 
heard  from  this  noble  brigade  save  the  clatter  of  their  arms 
and  panting  of  the  men  as  shoulder  to  shoulder  they  swept 
like  cavalry  to  the  rescue  of  their  companions. 

Sullivan  had  been  completely  taken  by  surprise,  but  with 
his  accustomed  bravery  strove  to  remedy  the  error  that  had 
been  committed.  Rapidly  advancing  to  a  gentle  slope  near 
the  meeting-house,  he  formed  his  line  in  an  open  space, 
each  extremity  resting  on  thick  woods.  But  in  executing  a 
manoeuvre  designed  to  thwart  a  French  General  Deborre, 
who  insisted  on  occupying  the  right  of  the  line  contrary  to 
his  orders,  his  brigade  did  not  arrive  on  the  field  in  time  to 
get  fully  into  position  before  the  action  commenced.  Howe 
on  his  huge  raw-boned  horse,  Cornwallis  glittering  in  scar- 
let and  gold,  together  with  other  officers,  sat  grouped  on 
Osborne  Hill,  and  watched  with  unfeigned  surprise  the  beau- 
tiful, regular  formation  of  the  American  line. 

The  battle  was  commenced  by  an  advance  company  of 
Hessians,  who  crossed  the  road,  and  resting  their  pieces  on 
the  fence  fired  at  a  small  body  of  Americans  in  an  adjoin- 
ing orchard.  Soon  the  field  was  piled  with  baggage,  blan- 
kets, etc.,  thrown  aside  under  the  oppressive  heat,  and  the 
troops  went  pouring  forward  to  the  conflict.  The  artillery 
opened,  and  the  contest  became  close  and  murderous.  The 
American  troops,  though  most  of  them  were  undisciplined 
militia,  behaved  with  astonishing  coolness.  From  their 
steady,  deliberate  volleys  the  disciplined  ranks  of  the  enemy 
recoiled  in  amazement.  The  chasseurs  came  charging  down 
the  slope  with  clattering  armor  and  to  the  sound  of  trum- 
pets, but  could  not  break  the  firm  formation.  Grenadiers 
and  guards  were  each  and  all  hurled  back,  but  the  over- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  255 

whelming  numbers  continued  to  pour  forward,  bearing  down 
by  mere  weight  alone  the  American  ranks,  till  at  last  they 
began  to  shake  and  undulate  over  the  field.  Sullivan,  who 
had  seen  two  of  his  aids  fall  by  his  side,  galloped  along  the 
disordered  line,  and  strove  by  word  and  gesture  to  animate 
the  soldiers  to  another  effort.  But  his  example  and  appeals 
were  alike  in  vain.  First  the  right  and  then  the  left  wing 
broke  and  fled  toward  Chads'  Ford.  Finding  his  troops 
could  not  be  rallied,  he  then  separated  from  them,  and 
threw  himself  into  a  part  of  Stirling's  division,  in  the  cen- 
tre, which  still  heroically  maintained  its  ground.  Here  was 
also  the  youthful  Lafayette,  kindling  by  voice  and  gesture 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  men.  Dismounting  from  his  horse 
he  passed  through  the  ranks  exposing  himself  like  a  com- 
mon soldier,  when  a  musket  ball  pierced  his  leg.  Corn- 
wallis  seeing  with  what  stubborn  resolution  this  band  of 
eight  hundred  men  maintained  their  ground,  ordered  his  ar- 
tillery to  be  concentrated  upon  them.  The  effect  was  instan- 
taneous, and  the  troops,  scourged  into  madness  by  the  close, 
deadly  fire,  fled  to  the  woods  for  protection.  Washington, 
in  the  meantime,  had  ordered  Greene  to  take  possession  of 
Dilworth's  Pass,  and  hold  it  against  the  enemy.  He  did 
so,  and  as  the  fugitive  Americans  came  on  he  would  open 
his  ranks  and  let  them  flow  to  the  rear,  then  close  again  and 
present  a  firm  front  to  the  enemy. 

The  heavy  conflict  at  Birmingham  Meeting-House,  and 
the  sudden  departure  of  Greene's  division,  was  the  signal 
for  Knyphausen  to  advance.  The  head  of  his  column  en- 
tered the  stream  under  the  protection  of  the  heavy  batteries, 
and  though  severely  shaken  by  Wayne's  artillery,  pressed 
firmly  forward.  The  American  force  was  too  small  to  resist 
half  the  whole  British  army  for  any  length  of  time,  and 
though  Wayne  bore  up  nobly  against  the  unequal  numbers 
for  awhile,  he  saw,  after  Sullivan's  defeat,  that  a  retreat  was 
inevitable.  This,  however,  was  hastened,  in  fact  became  a 


256  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

flight,  at  the  appearance  of  a  large  body  of  the  enemy 
emerging  from  the  woods  above  him,  and  hastening  along 
the  banks  of  the  Brandywine,  to  take  him  in  flank  and  rear. 
Leaving  behind  all  their  stores  and  artillery,  the  broken  and 
disordered  columns  helped  to  swell  still  more  the  tumultu- 
ous torrent  that  rolled  on.     Greene,  however,  firmly  main- 
tained his  position  amid  the  turbulence  and  uproar  of  the 
pursuit  and  the  flight,  and  unshaken  alike  by  the  wreck  that 
tossed  around  him,  and  the  assaults  of  the  victorious  and 
confident  enemy,  saved  the  army  from  destruction.    Behind 
him,  as  an  impregnable  rampart,  the  defeated  but  not  dis- 
heartened troops  rallied  and  demanded  to  be  led  again  to 
the  attack.     Muhlenburg  and  Weadon  with  their  two  bri- 
gades fought  nobly  to  defend  this   pass.     The  latter  was 
formerly  an  innkeeper  in  Virginia — the  former  a  clergyman 
of  the  established  church  in  the  same  state.     The  martial 
spirit  of  the  divine  kindling  at  the  wrongs  heaped  upon  his 
country,  he  preached  his  farewell  sermon  to  his  people, 
saying  at  the  close  that  there  was  a  time  to  fight  as  well 
as  to  pray,  and  that  time  had  come.     He  had  been  pre- 
viously elected  colonel,  and  now  taking  off  his  gown  and 
putting  on  his  regimentals  he  walked  amid  his  congregation, 
and  ordered  the  drum  to  beat  for  recruits  at  the  church-door, 
and  before  night  had  three  hundred  men  at  his  back.     He 
did  good  service  in  the  south,  and  here  at  the  Pass  of  Dil- 
worth,  covered  his  brigade  with  glory.     During  the  battle 
and  the  flight  Washington  had  been  everywhere  present, 
directing  and  guiding  all  things.     Night  was  now  drawing 
on,  and  many  of  the  officers  enraged  at  the  result  of  the 
clay's  action,  demanded  to  be  led  against  the  enemy.     "  You 
must  obey  my  orders,"  said  Washington.     "  Our  only  re- 
source is  to  retreat."     Greene,  whose  blood  was  up  from 
the  conflict  and  defeat,  asked  how  far  they  must  retreat. 
•'  Over  evert/  hill  and  across  every  river  in  America  if  I  order 
you,"  was  the  stern  reply. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON. 

As  night  came  on  the  firing  ceased,  and  the  American 
army  retreated  in  confusion  toward  Chester.  The  roads 
leading  thither  were  crowded  with  men,  some  marching 
with  the  order  and  discipline  becoming  troops,  others  rush- 
ing blindly  on  through  the  gloom,  haunted  by  the  fear  of 
pursuit.  The  British  encamped  on  the  field  of  victory, 
which  was  thickly  strewn  with  friends  and  foes.  But  along 
the  slope  where  Stirling  fought  the  dead  lay  thickest. 

There  is  no  battle  recorded  in  our  history  respecting  which 
there  has  been  such  a  diversity  of  opinion  as  that  of  Bran- 
dy wine.  Washington  made  no  report  of  it  to  Congress, 
and  without  any  data  but  the  verbal  statements  of  those 
who  could  give  only  conjectures,  the  historian  has  been 
unable  to  come  to  any  definite  results.  The  British  force 
has  been  variously  estimated  at  from  eleven  to  seventeen 
thousand.  Their  loss,  as  stated  by  Howe,  and  universally 
conceded  by  Sparks  and  others,  was  only  some  six  or  seven 
hundred,  while  that  of  the  Americans  ranged  from  one 
thousand  to  fourteen  hundred  men.  These  figures  have 
always  appeared  to  me  incorrect,  for  several  reasons.  In 
the  first  place,  it  was  evident  that  the  two  main  divisions 
of  the  enemy  averaged  but  from  four  to  five  thousand  each, 
so  that  eleven  instead  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  thousand 
composed  their  actual  force  in  the  field.  In  the  second 
place,  their  loss  seemed  wholly  at  variance  with  the  ac- 
counts of  the  battle  itself.  It  is  generally  conceded  that 
Maxwell's  skirmishing  parties  killed  and  wounded  three 
hundred  out  of  Knyphausen's  division  alone,  before  it 
reached  the  Brandy  wine.  That  Stirling,  who  fought  like  a 
lion,  and  Greene,  with  his  two  gallant  brigades,  and  Wayne, 
who  kept  up  a  heavy  cannonade  for  five  or  six  hours,  should 
all  together  have  killed  and  wounded  only  three  hundred 
more,  is  evidently  absurd.  Still,  following  our  best  authori- 
ties, I  have  heretofore  adopted  their  statements.  But  lately 
I  have  fallen  on  a  document  which  shows  these  statements 


258  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

to  be  wholly  erroneous,  and  makes  the  facts  more  consistent 
with  reason.  It  was  found  among  General  James  Clinton's 
papers,  carefully  filed  away  and  endorsed  by  himself.  On 
the  back,  in  his  own  hand  writing,  is  inscribed — "  Taken 
from  the  enemy's  Ledgers,  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  General 
Washington's  army  at  the  action  of  Germantown." 
Within  is  the  following  statement : 

State  of  the  British  troops  and  position  they  were  in  when  they  made  the  attack 

at  Brandywine,  the  \\th  September,  1777. 
The  Upper  Ford,  under  the  command  of  Lt.  Lord  Cornwallis. 
2d  Regiment  British  Guards, )  mQ      m  kiUed  ^  wounded>* 
2d        "         Light  Infan try,  $ 

2d  Brigade  British  Foot,  2240      360    "  " 

1st  Division  Hessians,  800        70     "  " 

Ferguson's  Riflemen,  80        46     "  " 

Total,  4860    1088     "  « 

Middle  Ford,  under  the  command  of  Major-General  Gray. 
2d  Battalion  Guards,  500 

2d        "        2d  Highlanders,     700 
2d        »        70th      ••  700 

Total,  1900 

Lower  Ford,  under  command  of  Lt.  General  Knyphausen. 
2d  Brigade,  consisting  of  the  j 

4th,  5th,10th,  15th,  23d,  27th,    2240      580  killed  and  wounded. 
28th,  40th,  44th,  55th  Reg'ts.  ) 

Hessians  to  the  amount  of  800        28     "  " 

Queen's  Rangers,  480      290    "  " 


Total,  3520      898 

1900 
4860    1088 


The  whole  British  force,       10,280    1986  killed  and  wounded. 
1,986 

8,294 

The  estimate  of  the  total  force  which  the  British  had  on 
the  field,  makes  the  two  armies  actually  engaged  about 
equal.  The  heavy  loss  here  given  seems  at  first  sight  al- 
most incredible,  and  puts  an  entirely  different  aspect  on  the 

*  Where  Lord  Stirling's  division  fought. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  259 

battle.  Of  the  authenticity  and  accuracy  of  this  document 
I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt.  In  the  first  place,  General 
Clinton  is  known  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  careful  and 
accurate  men  with  his  papers  in  the  army,  and  he  would 
not  have  endorsed  and  filed  away  a  document,  the  state- 
ments of  which  were  not  well  authenticated.  In  the  second 
place,  the  document  itself  bears  the  strongest  prima  facie 
evidence  of  its  truth.  Mere  tables  of  figures  without  note 
or  comment  are  not  apt  to  be  fabrications.  The  registry  as 
given  above  could  be  nothing  but  a  plain  business  paper. 
In  the  third  place,  the  loss  corresponds  more  with  the 
length  and  severity  of  the  battle,  while  all  the  details  are 
complete,  even  to  the  numbers  of  the  regiments,  battalions, 
etc.  The  division  under  Gray  was  not  in  the  battle,  and 
hence  suffered  no  loss.  The  terrible  manner  in  which  the 
Queen's  Hangers  were  cut  up,  losing  nearly  three  hundred 
out  of  four  hundred  and  eighty,  is  explained  by  the  fact 
that  they  were  the  troops  sent  against  Maxwell  in  the  woods, 
where  they  received  that  severe  drubbing  mentioned  in  the 
former  part  of  the  chapter.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  the 
loss  of  Knyphausen  in  the  woods  before  reaching  the  Bran- 
dywine  should  correspond  so  completely  with  the  account 
of  Maxwell.  So  of  Ferguson's  riflemen,  more  than  half, 
according  to  this  statement,  were  killed  or  wounded,  show- 
ing what  we  all  know  to  be  true,  that  whenever  it  came  to 
specific  warfare,  the  picking  off"  men  in  detail,  the  enemy 
always  suffered  severely.  In  the  last  place,  it  explains 
Howe's  caution  after  the  battle.  He  was  evidently  afraid  to 
meet  Washington  in  open  conflict,  and  refused  again  and 
again  to  accept  the  battle  which  the  latter  endeavored  to 
force  upon  him.  The  fierce  and  desperate  manner  with 
which  the  Americans  fought  after  they  had  been  com- 
pletely outmanoeuvred — especially  the  firmness  shown  by 
the  militia  against  the  heavy  onsets  of  the  British  infantry, 
made  him  afraid  to  risk  another  engagement,  unless  he  had 


260  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

clearly  the  advantage  of  position.  The  French  officers  in 
Stirling's  division,  with  the  exception  of  Deborre,  by  their 
bravery  and  exhortations  did  noble  service,  and  the  untrained 
troops  were  held  to  the  fire  with  a  steadiness  that  had  not 
before  been  exhibited  in  the  open  field.  The  difference 
between  a  loss  of  six  hundred  and  two  thousand  is  certainly 
very  great,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  Howe  was 
in  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country,  and  it  was  clearly  his 
policy,  nay,  it  was  necessary  to  his  safety,  to  make  that  loss 
appear  as  inconsiderable  as  possible. 

Washington  has  been  criticised  for  fighting  this  battle, 
but  the  result  instead  of  proving  that  he  erred  in  judgment, 
seems  to  me  to  show  that  his  plans  were  sound  and  judicious. 
It  certainly  never  could  have  entered  into  any  one's  calcu- 
lations that  an  army  of  five  thousand  men  could  march  some 
twenty  or  more  miles,  and  in  broad  daylight  approach  within 
two  miles  of  Sullivan,  and  coolly  halt  and  eat  their  dinner, 
without  being  discovered. 

How  Sullivan  could  have  allowed  the  story  of  a  major, 
as  is  stated,  who  declared  he  had  been  along  the  upper  fords 
and  could  see  no  enemy,  to  overbalance  the  official  declara- 
tion of  lieutenant-colonel  Ross,  that  he  was  actually  follow- 
ing them  toward  the  upper  fords  of  the  Brandy  wine,  is 
utterly  incomprehensible.  I  know  that  he  was  deficient  in 
light-horse  with  which  to  scour  the  country,  but  after  the 
dispatch  of  Ross,  the  few  roads  that  led  to  his  flank  should 
have  been  constantly  traversed  for  at  least  ten  miles,  even 
if  his  own  staff  were  compelled  to  perform  the  service. 
Encamped  in  the  open  field,  with  a  report  in  his  hand  stating 
that  Cornwallis  was  far  above  him,  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
surprised  by  a  large  army  with  a  heavy  train  of  artillery, 
and  attacked  before  he  could  fairly  get  in  position.  Whether 
Sullivan  be  blameworthy  or  not,  one  thing  is  clear,  such 
errors  on  the  part  of  commanders  of  divisions  will  baffle 


,.  x  /          •     s .      *'••' 
l,>uaker  I.ady  detaining  the  English  General 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  263 

the  wisest  laid  plans  of  a  Commander-in-chief,  and  make 
every  battle  a  defeat. 

Had  the  troops  fought  on  a  fair  field  as  they  did  on  this 
ruinous  one,  Washington  would  have  stopped  Howe's  ad- 
vance ;  and  had  he  acted  on  the  first  information  and 
crossed  the  Brandy  wine  and  attacked  Knyphausen,  he  would, 
in  all  probability,  have  completely  ruined  him.  As  it  was, 
the  gallant  manner  in  which  the  greater  part  of  the  army 
behaved,  elated  him  almost  as  much  as  a  victory  would  have 
done.  Congress  also,  instead  of  being  disheartened,  took 
courage,  and  immediately  dispatched  an  order  to  General 
Putnam,  in  the  Highlands,  to  send  on  with  all  possible  dis- 
patch fifteen  hundred  continentals,  while  the  militia  from 
the  surrounding  states  were  summoned  to  the  field.  Fore- 
seeing that  in  all  probability  Philadelphia  would  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  it  invested  Washington  with  ex- 
traordinary powers,  to  be  used  in  case  of  its  absence.  He 
was  authorized  to  suspend  officers  for  ill-conduct  and  ap- 
point new  ones,  to  forage  the  country  for  seventy  miles 
around  for  provisions  and  other  articles  necessary  to  the 
army,  and  remove  and  secure  all  goods  which  might  benefit 
the  enemy. 

Undaunted  by  the  repulse  he  had  met  with  at  Brandy- 
wine,  Washington,  who  the  day  after  the  battle  had  retreated 
to  Germantown,  allowed  his  troops  but  a  single  day  to  rest, 
when  he  recrossed  the  Schuylkill,  and  marched  back  to  meet 
Howe,  and  give  him  battle.  His  troops,  though  suffering 
from  long  exposure,  without  sufficient  clothing,  a  thousand 
of  them  being  barefooted,  pressed  cheerfully  forward.  The 
latter  had  scarcely  left  Brandywine,  when  he  was  told  that 
the  enemy  was  seeking  him  on  the  very  field  of  his  victory. 
Grant  and  Cornwallis  pushed  forward  in  the  direction  of 
Chester,  while  Howe,  with  the  main  body,  advanced  toward 
the  Lancaster  Road  leading  to  Philadelphia.  On  arriving 
at  Goshen,  twenty  miles  from  the  city,  the  latter  was  told 


264  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

that  Washington  was  only  five  miles  distant,  marching  up 
to  give  him  battle.  He  immediately  took  position  on  a 
hill,  and  in  a  short  time  the  heads  of  Washington's  columns 
appeared  in  view.  The  latter  continued  steadily  to  advance, 
directing  his  course  against  the  left  wing  of  the  enemy,  and 
soon  the  sharp  firing  of  the  skirmishing  parties  began  to 
ring  over  the  field.  It  was  a  dark  and  sombre  afternoon, 
and  the  overcast  heavens  every  moment  grew  more  threaten- 
ing. Washington  knowing  what  ruinous  work  a  heavy  rain 
would  make  with  the  ammunition  of  his  troops,  cast  an 
anxious  look  at  the  clouds,  but  still  pressed  forward.  Offi- 
cers were  seen  hurrying  over  the  field,  the  artillery  was 
brought  forward,  and  the  attacking  columns  were  already  in 
motion  when  the  long  pent-up  clouds  opened,  and  a  deluge 
of  rain  descended,  flooding  the  field  and  drenching  both 
armies.  It  was  one  of  those  blinding,  pelting  rains,  to  which 
both  animals  and  man  succumb,  and  its  effect  on  the  army 
was  like  the  sudden  order  to  halt.  The  weary  troops  soaked 
to  their  skins  endeavored  in  vain  to  protect  their  ammunition. 
The  water  penetrated  everywhere.  The  powder  was  soon 
wet,  and  the  fire-locks  rendered  useless.  The  British  army 
was  in  no  better  condition,  for,  without  a  tent  to  cover  them, 
they  had  been  exposed  to  the  same  storm.  The  rain  con- 
tinued all  night,  and  a  sorry  night  it  was  to  the  shivering 
army,  as  it  crouched  in  the  open  field,  supperless  and  weary. 
In  the  morning  Washington  ordered  a  retreat.  He  first 
retired  to  Yellow  Springs,  and  finally  recrossed  the  Schuyl- 
kill,  resolved  as  soon  as  he  could  get  his  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion in  order,  again  to  cross  Howe's  path,  and  fall  on  him 
with  his  suffering  but  valorous  little  army. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  he  ordered  Wayne,  with  fif- 
teen hundred  men,  to  hang  on  the  skirts  of  the  British,  and, 
if  possible,  cut  off  their  baggage.  This  officer,  making  a 
circuitous  march,  took,  on  the  night  of  the  20th,  an  ex- 
cellent position,  two  miles  from  the  Paoli  Tavern,  and  three 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  265 

miles  from  the  British  encampment.  Howe,  informed  by 
spies  of  Wayne's  proximity,  resolved  to  surprise  him.  The 
latter,  however,  received  information  of  the  design,  and 
though  hardly  believing  the  report,  doubled  his  pickets  and 
patrols,  and  ordered  his  men  to  sleep  on  their  arms  with 
their  ammunition  beneath  their  coats.  It  was  a  dark  and 
rainy  night,  and  every  thing  remained  quiet  till  about  eleven 
o'clock,  when  the  rapid  firing  of  the  pickets  announced  the 
enemy  close  at  hand.  Wayne  immediately  ordered  a  retreat, 
but,  before  it  could  be  effected,  the  British  rushed  with  loud 
shouts  upon  him,  crying,  "  No  quarter."  They  swept  the 
encampment  like  a  whirlwind,  chasing  Wayne  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  strewing  the  ground  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  men. 
As  the  attack  was  expected,  its  complete  success  caused 
many  to  blame  Wayne  severely.  But  he  declared  that  the 
disaster  was  owing  to  the  delay  of  Colonel  Hampton  to  obey 
his  orders  to  wheel  the  line  and  move  off,  while  he  covered 
the  retreat.  Another  explanation,  and  a  very  probable  one 
is,  that  Wayne  thoughtlessly  encamped  amid  his  fires,  in- 
stead of  away  from  them,  thus  lighting  the  enemy  to  the 
assault,  and  showing  them  exactly  where  to  strike.  At  all 
events  it  was  a  bad  affair,  and  rendered  still  worse  by  the 
preceding  misfortunes. 

Howe,  instead  of  pushing  on  to  Philadelphia,  wheeled  off 
toward  Reading,  apparently  to  gain  Washington's  flank,  and 
at  the  same  time  destroy  the  military  stores  deposited  in 
the  latter  place.  Washington  immediately  moved  in  the 
same  direction.  But  the  whole  country  so  swarmed  with 
Tories  that  he  could  gain  no  reliable  information  of  Howe's 
movements  till  next  morning,  when  he  discovered  that  his 
enemy  had  turned  back  again  and  crossed  the  fords  below. 
A  forced  march  to  overtake  him  was  now  quite  impossible, 
especially  with  a  barefoot  army,  and  Philadelphia  fell. 
Congress,  in  anticipation  of  the  catastrophe,  had  adjourned 
to  Lancaster,  whence  it  removed  to  Yorktown.  The  public 


266  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

archives  and  magazines  had  been  previously  secured,  and 
the  ships  at  the  wharves  carried  up  the  Delaware.  On  the 
26th  of  September,  Lord  Cornwallis,  in  brilliant  uniform, 
rode  into  the  city  at  the  head  of  a  detachment  of  British 
and  Hessian  grenadiers,  welcomed  with  loud  greetings  by 
the  Tories,  and  received  with  congratulations  by  the  disloyal 
Quakers,  who  remained  behind  to  receive  him. 

Three  days  after  this  triumphal  entry  the  first  battle  of 
Stillwater  was  fought. 

The  main  part  of  the  British  army  did  not  advance  into 
the  place,  but  encamped  at  Germantown,  eight  miles  distant. 
Washington,  chafing  like  a  foiled  lion,  slowly  followed  after, 
and  pitched  his  camp  at  Skippack  Creek,  only  fourteen 
miles  distant,  where  he  narrowly  watched  every  movement 
of  the  enemy.  In  the  meantime  the  British  fleet  came  up 
Delaware  Bay  with  the  intention  of  communicating  with 
the  land  forces  around  Philadelphia.  Anticipating  this 
movement,  Washington  had  directed  fortifications  to  be 
built,  and  obstructions  sunk  in  the  channel,  the  whole  de- 
fended by  forty  galleys  and  half  galleys,  five  rafts,  fourteen 
fire-ships,  and  other  vessels.  The  chief  batteries  were  at 
Mud  Bank,  a  low  island,  and  at  Red  Bank  on  the  Jersey 
shore,  opposite.  In  order  to  assist  his  brother  in  the  at- 
tempt to  break  through  these  formidable  barriers,  Howe 
sent  off  two  regiments  to  attack  a  fort  at  Billing's  Point. 
Washington,  finding  the  British  army  thus  weakened,  while 
his  own  had  been  reinforced  by  the  arrival  of  troops  from 
the  north,  and  the  Maryland  militia,  resolved  to  fall  upon 
Germantown,  and,  if  possible,  carry  it  by  assault. 

The  marvelous  tenacity  with  which  Washington  clung  to 
an  object  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon,  and  the  energy, 
almost  fierceness,  with  which  he  pressed  toward  it,  were 
never  more  strikingly  exhibited  than  in  these  repeated  at- 
tacks on  the  British  army.  Chased  from  the  Jerseys,  he 
took  post  behind  the  Brandywine,  and  though  defeated  by 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  267 

a  blunder  which  no  foresight  of  his  could  have  guarded 
against,  left  nearly  two  thousand  of  the  enemy  on  the  field. 
Giving  his  tattered,  unshod  army  but  one  day's  rest,  he 
boldly  turned  on  his  heel,  and  marched  back  to  assail  his ' 
victorious  enemy.  Again  disappointed  and- thwarted  by  the 
interposition  of  heaven,  he  was  compelled  reluctantly  to  re- 
treat. Still  unyielding,  he  turned  hither  and  thither  to  meet 
his  antagonist  and  dispute  with  him  for  Philadelphia.  De- 
ceived and  misled  by  the  Tory  inhabitants,  he  was  compelled 
to  see  the  object  of  so  much  solicitude  and  toil  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  while  the  fugitive  Congress  and 
crowds  of  men  and  women  escaping  over  the  country  gave 
additional  keenness  to  the  mortification  and  disappointment 
under  which  he  suffered .  Notwithstanding  all  this,  and  the 
impoverished  state  of  his  army,  he  now  determined  with 
his  undisciplined  troops  to  attack  the  enemy  in  his  camp, 
and  sweep  him  with  one  terrible  blow  into  the  Schuylkill. 
The  British  encampment  at  Germantown  lay  along  the 
Schuylkill,  passing  directly  through  the  place.  The  left 
wing,  between  the  town  and  river,  was  covered  in  front  by 
the  mounted  and  dismounted  chasseurs — the  centre,  in  the 
town,  by  a  regiment  and  battalion  of  infantry  stationed 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  advance,  while  the  right,  ex- 
tending beyond  the  town  into  the  country,  was  protected 
by  the  Queen's  American  Rangers,  and  a  battalion  of  light 
infantry.  This  was  the  position  of  the  British  army  on  the 
night  of  the  3d  of  October,  and  the  watch-fires  burned 
cheerfully  along  the  lines,  and  the  sentinels  walked  their 
weary  rounds,  little  dreaming  of  the  storm  that  was  about  to 
burst  upon  them.  Washington's  plan  was  a  complicated  one 
for  a  night  attack,  but  if  successful  at  all  would  be  completely 
so,  and  result  not  merely  in  the  defeat  but  utter  overthrow, 
and  probable  capture  of  the  British  army.  He  resolved  to 
divide  his  army  into  four  portions,  and  entering  the  town  at 
four  different  points,  attack  the  enemy  in  front,  flank  and 


268  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

rear,  at  the  same  time,  and  thus  throw  them  into  disorder, 
and  force  them  back  on  the  Schuylkill.  Greene  and  Ste- 
phens, with  their  brigades  were  selected  to  attack  the  British 
right  wing,  while  the  Maryland  and  Jersey  militia,  under 
Smallwood  and  Foreman,  were  to  take  a  road  nearly  parallel 
to  the  one  along  which  this  division  moved,  a  little  further 
to  the  left,  so  as  to  fall  on  the  wing  in  flank.  Armstrong, 
with  the  Pennsylvania  militia,  was  to  keep  along  the  river 
shore,  attack  the  British  left,  and,  forcing  it  back,  get  to  the 
rear ;  while  Sullivan  and  Wayne,  flanked  by  Conway's  bri- 
gade, and  accompanied  by  Washington  in  person,  should 
move  straight  on  the  centre.  The  plan  of  attack  being 
thus  arranged,  the  columns  took  up  their  line  of  march  at 
7  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  moved  rapidly  forward.  It 
was  a  clear,  autumnal  night,  and  the  dark  mass  went  hurry- 
ing along  the  highway,  now  passing  open  fields,  and  again 
lost  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  forest,  their  heavy  tread  and 
roll  of  artillery  carriages  being  the  only  sounds  that  dis- 
turbed the  stillness  of  the  scene  The  inmates  of  the  farm- 
houses along  the  road,  roused  from  their  slumbers  by  the 
continuous  and  muffled  tread  of  the  heavy  columns,  gazed 
forth  with  alarm  as  the  long  array  swept  past.  German- 
town  lay  fourteen  miles  distant,  and  Washington  hoped  to 
make  his  attack  by  daylight.  But  as  the  head  of  the 
division  rose  over  Chestnut  Hill,  that  looked  down  on  Ger- 
mantown,  day  was  already  broadening  in  the  east.  Here 
the  columns  appointed  to  attack  the  centre  broke  off,  and 
began  to  move  to  their  respective  destinations.  As  Wash- 
ington with  his  staff  rode  down  the  hill  the  sun  rose  over 
the  eastern  horizon,  lighting  up  into  momentary  beauty  the 
quiet  vail e}^  beneath,  while  the  morning  gun  of  the  British 
broke  dull  and  heavy  on  the  ear.  In  a  few  minutes  a  thick 
fog  rising  from  the  Schuylkill  shut  everthing  from  view, 
and  almost  at  the  same  moment  was  heard  the  firing  of  Sul- 
livan's advance  as  it  came  upon  the  enemy's  picket  at  Mount 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  269 

Airey.  The  sudden  cry  of  "  to  arms,"  the  shrill  blast  of 
the  bugle  and  roll  of  drums  showed  that  Washington  had 
pounced  upon  them  unawares.  The  pickets  being  re- 
inforced, made  a  stand,  till  Sullivan,  with  the  main  body, 
advancing,  drove  them  back.  He  then  left  the  road  and 
began  to  cross  the  fields.  But  being  compelled  to  fling 
down  every  fence  as  he  advanced,  which  also  furnished  a 
rallying  point  to  the  enemy,  his  progress  was  slow. 

He,  however,  kept  steadily  on,  and  at  length  came  up 
with  the  left  wing  of  the  enemy,  drawn  up  in  order  of  bat- 
tle, and  a  close  and  murderous  conflict  commenced.  Wash- 
ington all  this  time  was  moving  along  the  main  road  with 
the  rear  of  the  army.  Hearing  the  heavy  firing  in  advance, 
he  knew  that  Sullivan  was  warmly  engaged.  As  it  con- 
tinued without  any  cessation,  he  became  anxious,  for  he 
knew  that  the  troops  had  only  about  fifty  rounds  of  ammuni- 
tion, and  turning  to  Colonel  Pickering,  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
afraid  General  Sullivan  is  throwing  away  his  ammunition  ; 
ride  forward  and  tell  him  to  preserve  it."  Pickering  dashed 
off  on  a  gallop,  and  delivered  his  message.  "  Shoulder 
arms,"  passed  along  the  American  line — "  Forward,  march," 
followed,  and  the  whole  line,  with  shouldered  pieces,  moved 
steadily  up  to  the  enemy,  who,  struck  with  astonishment, 
recoiled.  Wayne,  with  his  division,  kept  on  his  terrible 
way,  bearing  down  all  opposition.  The  fog  was  so  thick 
that  the  opposing  lines  could  not  see  each  other  till  within 
a  few  rods,  and  hence  fired  at  each  other's  volleys,  and 
charged  where  the  last  blaze  was  seen.  Wayne,  carried 
away  by  his  eagerness  and  daring,  was  riding  gallantly  at 
the  head  of  his  column  when  he  was  struck  in  the  foot  by 
a  ball — a  second  grazed  his  hand,  a  third  and  fourth  pierced 
his  horse,  and  he  sunk  to  the  earth.  Springing  to  his  feet, 
he  shouted,  "  Forward,"  and  sweeping  the  field  before  him, 
carried  confusion  into  the  whole  British  arrny,  so  that  it 
threatened  momentarily  to  break  and  fly.  But  Colonel 


270  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

Musgrave,  commanding  the  British  centre,  threw  himself 
with  a  body  of  men  into  a  large  stone  building,  called  Chew's 
house,  and  having  barricaded  the  lower  story,  opened  a  de- 
structive fire  of  musketry  from  the  upper  windows.  Here, 
while  the  battle  was  roaring  further  and  further  away  in  the 
gloom,  Washington,  with  several  of  his  officers,  halted  to 
consult  on  the  best  course  to  be  pursued. 

Grouped  together  in  front  of  an  old  stone  building  that 
loomed  dimly  through  the  mist,  they  let  the  precious  mo- 
ments pass,  while  they  discussed  the  propriety  of  pushing 
on  without  first  reducing  Chew's  house.  Knox  loudly  insist- 
ed on  halting  the  army  till  the  house  could  be  summoned  to 
surrender.  The  younger  officers  opposed  this  course  as  ruin- 
ous. "It  is  unmilitary,"  exclaimed  Knox,  "  to  leave  a  castle 
in  our  rear."  "  What,"  replied  Hamilton  and  Reed,  "call  this 
a  castle,  and  lose  the  happy  moment !"  Hamilton  and  Lee 
and  Pickering  earnestly,  almost  fiercely  insisted  on  pushing 
rapidly  forward.  "  Leave  a  regiment  here,"  said  they,  "  to 
take  care  of  them,  and  this  will  be  all-sufficient."  Knox, 
however,  whose  opinion  had  great  weight  with  Washing- 
ton, prevailed,  and  Lieutenant  Smith,  of  Virginia,  was  sent 
forward  with  a  flag.  The  enemy  paid  no  attention  to  it, 
but  continued  to  fire,  and  Smith,  struck  down  by  a  musket- 
ball,  was  borne,  mortally  wounded,  to  the  rear.  A  brisk 
cannonade  was  then  opened  on  the  building,  but  the  pieces 
being  only  six  pounders,  they  could  produce  no  effect. 
Wayne's  division,  which  till  this  moment  had  carried  every- 
thing before  it,  hearing  the  heavy  firing  in  the  rear,  sup- 
posed very  naturally  that  they  had  been  cut  off  by  the  ene- 
my, and  immediately  fell  back.  This  uncovered  Sullivan  s 
left,  that  was  pressing  on  nearly  abreast.  The  British,  who 
had  begun  to  look  about  for  a  safe  retreat,  no  sooner  saw 
themselves  relieved  from  the  presence  of  Wayne's  division, 
than  they  wheeled  on  the  flank  of  Sullivan's.  About  this 
time  also,  the  distant  firing  of  Greene,  which  had  been 


and  Capt.  Forost  inquiring  for  the  Hessian  Picket. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  27o 

very  heavy  and  constant,  suddenly  ceased,  for  want  of  am- 
munition. Being  compelled  to  countermarch  his  division, 
as  he  found  the  enemy  so  differently  posted  from  what  he 
had  been  told,  he  was  unable  to  commence  his  attack  till 
long  after  the  appointed  time.  Armstrong  had  come  in 
sight  of  the  enemy  and  halted,  apparently  engrossed  in 
listening  to  the  tremendous  explosions  that  burst  on  every 
side  from  the  dense  fog.  Still  a  portion  of  Sullivan's  left 
wing  kept  on  through  the  forsaken  encampments,  and  past 
the  deserted  tents,  driving  the  enemy  for  two  miles  before 
them,  and  finally  drew  up  within  some  six  hundred  yards 
of  a  large  body  rapidly  forming  in  a  lane,  though  scarcely 
visible  from  the  dense  fog.  Colonel  Matthews,  from  Greene's 
division,  here  got  entangled  amid  the  houses,  and  before  he 
could  escape  was  attacked  on  three  sides  at  once,  by  three 
times  his  number.  Thus  encompassed,  he  stood  and  fought 
like  a  lion,  charging  at  the  head  of  his  troops  with  a  des- 
peration and  valor  that  astonished  friends  and  foes,  till 
nearly  his  whole  command  was  killed  or  wounded,  when  he 
and  a  hundred  men  surrendered  themselves  prisoners.  This, 
together  with  the  failure  of  ammunition,  completed  the 
disaster — the  cry  arose  on  all  sides  that  the  enemy  was  sur- 
rounding them,  and  the  whole  army  recoiled  in  disorder  to 
Chew's  house,  and  past  it.  The  assailed  at  once  became 
the  assailants,  and  charging  on  the  broken  ranks  with  loud 
shouts,  drove  them  back  over  the  dead  and  dying.  The 
scene  now  became  one  of  indescribable  confusion.  Officers 
galloped  around  the  broken  squads,  in  the  vain  effort  to 
rally  them,  while  "Washington,  fully  aroused  to  the  extent 
of  the  danger  which  threatened  him,  spurred  among  the 
fugitives,  and  by  his  personal  daring,  and  apparently  reckless 
exposure  of  life,  held  a  portion  of  the  troops  to  the  shock. 
His  voice  sounded  over  the  din  of  battle,  and  his  form 
glanced  like  a  meteor  through  the  smoke  and  fog  that  en- 
veloped the  field.  Catching  a  glimpse  of  him  sitting  in  the 

15 


274  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

very  blaze  of  the  enemy's  volleys,  Sullivan,  who  had  just  seen 
two  aids  fall  by  his  side,  forgetful  of  his  own  danger,  rode 
up  to  him  and  begged  him  not  to  remain  in  such  an  ex- 
posed position,  for  the  salvation  of  the  army  and  country 
depended  on  his  life.  Washington  wheeled  away  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  Sullivan,  on  looking  back  again,  saw  him  riding 
as  before,  where  the  shot  fell  thickest.  But  the  day  was 
irrevocably  lost — defeat  had  come  in  the  very  hour  of 
victory,  and  the  shout  of  triumph  died  away  in  the  cry  of 
fear.  Such  a  sudden  reverse,  so  unexpected  an  overthrow 
from  the  very  height  of  success,  was  almost  too  much  for 
Washington's  firmness,  and  he  expressed  more  chagrin  and 
disappointment  than  at  the  result  of  any  battle  he  ever 
fought.  Discomfited,  weary,  though  not  dispirited,  the 
army,  weakened  in  killed,  wounded  and  missing,  by  nearly 
a  thousand  men,  retreated  for  twenty  miles  into  the  coun- 
try, and  finally  reached  their  old  camp  in  safety.  When 
the  separate  divisions  compared  notes,  all  felt  that  they  had 
lost  a  battle  already  gained — been  beaten  after  they  had 
conquered,  and  were  now  compelled  to  report  a  defeat  in- 
stead of  a  glorious  victory.  Several  valuable  officers  were 
slain,  and  among  them  General  Nash.  Most  of  the  officers 
behaved  nobly — there  were,  however,  some  few  exceptions, 
and  among  them  General  Stephens,  who  reeled  in  his  saddle 
from  drunkenness  as  he  led  his  men  into  action.  He  was 
consequently  struck  from  the  army,  and  his  command  given 
to  Lafayette.  Cornwallis,  in  Philadelphia,  eight  miles  dis- 
tant, was  startled  at  an  early  hour  by  the  arrival  of  an  offi- 
cer, announcing  the  attack  on  the  camp  at  Germantown. 
Summoning  a  corps  of  cavalry  and  the  grenadiers,  he 
hastened  thither.  But  the  battle  was  over,  and  the  day  of 
his  humiliation  postponed. 

There  has  been  a  vast  deal  written  about  this  battle,  and 
the  contradictory  accounts  growing  out  of  the  state  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  utter  impossibility  of  one  division  to 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  275 

judge  what  another  was  doing,  and  the  various  causes  that 
in  different  localities  conspired  to  produce  the  same  result 
will  always  involve  it  in  more  or  less  uncertainty.  Wash- 
ington ascribes  his  failure  principally  to  the  fog ;  another 
to  the  failure  of  the  ammunition ;  a  third  to  the  neglect  of 
Armstrong,  and  the  delay  of  the  militia  under  Smallwood 
and  Forman  on  the  left,  which  never  came  into  action  at 
all,  thus  breaking  up  the  unity  and  efficiency  of  the  com- 
bined movement.  All  these,  doubtless,  had  their  effect. 
Night  attacks  are  always  subject  to  many  contingencies,  es- 
pecially if  they  are  crippled  by  complicated  movements. 
Different  points  cannot  be  reached  at  the  specified  and  de- 
sirable moment.  Unexpected  obstacles  will  arise ;  delays 
not  anticipated  become  unavoidable,  and  mistakes  not  only 
as  to  positions,  but  also  as  to  the  friendly  or  hostile  charac- 
ter of  troops  concentrated  in  the  darkness,  very  probable, 
and  the  firing  in  different  quarters  wrongly  interpreted. 
The  dense  fog  made  this  in  reality  a  night  attack,  and 
hence  subject  to  all  the  casualties  of  one.  As  a  primary 
cause,  therefore,  not  anticipated  by  Washington,  he  very 
naturally,  and  might  very  truly,  regard  it  the  true 
one.  Had  the  morning  been  clear  the  result  would, 
doubtless,  have  been  different.  But  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  the  very  fog  which  confused  the  Americans, 
confused  still  more  the  enemy.  The  former  knew  perfectly 
well  what  they  were  about,  while  the  latter  were  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  number  of  their  assailants,  or  where  the 
weight  of  the  attack  was  to  fall.  After  going  over  all  the 
different  authorities,  the  great  mistake,  it  seems  to  me,  lay 
in  halting  at  Chew's  house.  Had  the  advice  of  Pickering, 
Lee,  Hamilton,  and  others  been  taken,  and  a  regiment  left 
to  occupy  those  in  the  building,  should  they  attempt  to 
make  a  sally,  all  the  other  casualties  would  have  effected 
nothing  in  the  general  result.  Howe's  army  would  have 
been  destroyed,  and  this  calamity,  followed  so  rapidly  by 


276  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  capture  of  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga,  finished  the  war  with 
a  clap  of  thunder. 

An  unexpected  heavy  firing  in  the  rear  of  an  army,  while 
the  commander-in-chief  is  absent,  will  always  prove  disas- 
trous. It  was  clear  as  noonday  that  the  inmates  of  Chew's 
house,  finding  themselves  watched  by  a  regiment  with  ar- 
tillery, would  never  have  dared  to  sally  forth  on  the  rear  of 
a  victorious  army,  and  the  Battle  of  Germantown  was  lost 
by  the  very  conduct  which  constitutes  a  martinet.  Knox 
was  the  only  general  officer  in  the  consultation  held  upon  the 
building,  and  it  was  natural  that  Washington,  who  had,  and 
justly,  a  high  opinion  of  his  military  skill,  should  place 
more  confidence  in  his  judgment  that  in  that  of  his  young 
aids.  But  in  battle,  rules  should  never  arrest  fortune,  or  be 
used  to  stem  the  current  of  events,  when  setting  favorably. 
Impulse  in  the  heat  and  excitement  of  close  conflict  is  often 
wiser  than  the  sagest  experience.  At  all  events  in  this  case 
it  was  applying  a  general  rule  where  it  did  not  belong,  and 
arresting  the  whole  practical  action  of  a  battle  by  a  mere 
technicality ;  and  although  Washington  attributes  the  failure 
to  Providence,  Providence  will  always  be  found  against  such 
bad  management  as  that  halt  at  Chew's  house  most  indubi- 
tably was.  Knox  and  Providence  are  by  no  means  one 
and  the  same,  and  had  the  opinion  of  the  general  been  less 
scientific  and  more  practical,  the  course  of  Providence  would 
have  taken  a  far  different,  and  more  satisfactory  direction. 
Not  that  I  would  intimate  that  Providence  does  not  overrule 
all  our  actions  and  bring  about  the  best  results  in  the  end. 
I  mean  simply  to  say  what  no  man  doubts,  that  blunders, 
bad  management,  and  unwise  conduct,  Providence  generally 
allows  to  work  mischief  to  those  who  are  guilty  of  them. 
It  is  not  a  difficult  matter  now,  when  every  thing  is  under- 
stood, to  fix  the  turning  point  of  the  battle,  or  to  locate  the 
blame,  but  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  say  how  great,  under 
all  the  circumstances,  that  blame  was.  Finding  his  entire 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  277 

army  enshrouded  in  a  dense  fog ;  knowing  by  the  heavy 
and  constant  firing  that  the  troops  were  nearly  out  of  am- 
munition, and  fearing  to  get  entangled  in  a  net-work  of  just 
such  houses  as  that  of  Chew's,  Washington  may  have  well 
hesitated  about  advancing,  unless  he  could  make  a  clean 
sweep  as  he  went.  But  so  far  as  the  regarding  of  this  single 
house  as  a  fort  or  castle,  it  is  palpable  as  noon-day 
that  the  junior  officers  were  right,  and  Knox  totally,  fatally 
wrong.  The  whole  upper  part  of  the  building  would 
scarcely  hold  a  regiment,  while  not  a  hundred  men  could 
fire  to  advantage  from  it  at  a  time.  After  the  field  in  front 
had  been  swept,  a  flag  sent  to  it  would  not  have  been  fired 
on,  and  a  valuable  officer  lost  his  life.  Still,  though  cha- 
grined, the  troops  were  not  dispirited.  They  had  attacked 
the  veterans  of  England,  and  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  chasing 
them  in  affright  from  their  own  encampment.  Neither  did 
Congress  mourn  over  the  defeat.  Almost  a  victory  was 
rather  a  subject  of  congratulation,  for  it  gave  confidence  to 
the  troops  and  lessened  their  fear  of  the  enemy.  The 
British  confessed  it  was  the  severest  handling  they  had  yet 
received,  and  although  Howe,  as  usual,  made  his  loss  but 
trifling,  it  evidently  amounted  to  about  eight  hundred  men. 
Mr.  Sparks  thinks  that  this  battle  had  nearly  as  much  to 
do  in  fixing  the  wavering  determination  of  France,  respect- 
ing the  recognition  of  our  independence,  as  the  capture  of 
Burgojme,  remarking  that  Count  De  Vergennes  said  to  one 
of  our  commissioners  in  Paris,  "  that  nothing  struck  him 
so  much  as  General  Washington  attacking  and  giving  battle 
to  General  Howe's  army ;  that  to  bring  an  army  raised 
within  a  year  to  this,  promised  everything."  This  may 
1  have  had  its  weight  in  the  French  Councils,  but  such  a  re- 
mark was  doubtless  more  complimentary  than  serious,  for 
one  cannot  imagine  what  an  army  is  raised  for,  except  to 
attack  the  enemy,  and  that,  too,  within  less  than  a  year. 


278  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Fall  of  Burgoyne — Sermon  of  Timothy  Dwight — Letter  from  Washington  to 
Howe — Attack  on  Fort  Mercer,  and  Death  of  Count  Donop — Gallant  Defense 
and  Fall  of  Fort  Mifflin — Fall  of  Fort  Mercer — March  of  Howe  against  Wash- 
ington, and  Address  of  the  latter  to  his  Troops — The  Conway  Cabal  and  Fate 
of  the  head  Conspirators — Valley  Forge — Sufferings  of  the  Soldiers — Washing- 
ton at  Prayer — Labors  of  Washington,  and  Inefficiency  of  Congress — The  Half- 
Pay  Establishment — Washington's  Answer  to  the  Complaint  that  he  did  not 
make  a  Winter  Campaign — News  of  the  Alliance  of  France — Celebration  of  it  in 
Yalley  Forge — Baron  Steuben  and  the  Effects  of  his  Discipline  on  the  Army — 
Howe  resolves  to  Evacuate  Philadelphia — Council  of  War  in  American  Camp  on 
the  best  course  to  adopt. 

FOUR  days  after  the  failure  at  Germantown,  the  second 
battle  of  Saratoga  was  fought,  and  Burgoyne,  now  com- 
pletely hemmed  in,  turned,  as  a  last  resource,  to  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  who  was  endeavoring  to  force  his  way  up  the  Hud- 
son to  his  rescue.  The  latter  had  succeeded  in  taking  both 
forts  Montgomery  and  Clinton,  though  bravely  defended  by 
Generals  James,  and  George  Clinton.  His  effort,  however, 
came  too  late.  For  six  days  Burgoyne  gloomily  bore  up 
against  the  decree  which  he  knew  was  written  against  him. 
But  his  unrelenting  foes  day  by  day  gathered  closer  and 
darker  around  him.  They  pitched  their  balls  into  his  un- 
covered camp-,  and  from  every  height  played  with  their 
artillery  on  his  dispirited  columns.  Through  the  hall  of 
council,  where  his  officers  were  moodily  assembled,  through 
the  very  apartment  where  he  sat  at  dinner,  cannon  balls 
would  crash,  while  all  around  his  camp  the  steadily  increas- 
ing storm  gave  fearful  indications  of  his  overthrow.  For 
awhile  he  turned  and  turned,  like  a  scorpion  girt  with  fire, 
but  his  proud,  ambitious  heart  was  at  last  compelled  to 
yield,  und  that  splendid  army,  on  which  he  had  fondly 
hoped  to  build  his  fume  and  secure  rank  and  glory,  laid 
down  its  anus.  Forty-two  brass  cannon,  five  thousand 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  279 

stand  of  arms,  and  all  the  camp  equipage,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Americans,  and  one  long,  loud  shout  of  triumph 
and  of  joy  rolled  through  the  northern  colonies.  Gates,  in- 
flated by  success,  for  which  he  had  Arnold  to  thank,  refused 
to  report  his  victory  to  Washington,  but  sent  his  dispatch 
to  Putnam,  at  Fishkill,  with  the  request  to  deliver  it  to 
Congress.  Putnam,  overjoyed  at  the  news,  spread  it  through 
the  army,  and  shouts,  and  the  firing  of  cannon  signalized 
the  glorious  event.  Rev.  Timothy  Dwight,  a  chaplain  in 
the  army,  preached  a  sermon  at  head-quarters,  next  day, 
from  the  text,  "  I  will  remove  far  off  from  you  the  northern 
army."  Never  was  a  sermon  so  listened  to  before  by  the 
officers  and  troops.  Putnam  could  not  refrain  from  nodding 
and  smiling  during  the  discourse  at  the  happy  hits  with 
which  it  was  filled,  and  at  the  close  was  loud  in  his  praises 
of  Mr.  Dwight  and  the  sermon,  though,  to  be  sure,  he  said 
there  was  no  such  text  in  the  Bible — the  chaplain  having 
coined  it  to  suit  the  occasion.  When  shown  the  passage, 
he  exclaimed,  "  Well,  there  is  every  thing  in  that  book,  and 
Dwight  knows  just  where  to  lay  his  finger  on  it." 

Washington,  distressed  for  want  of  men,  had  written 
Gates,  after  the  first  battle,  to  send  him  Morgan's  corps,  if 
the  enemy  was  retreating.  Gates  declined,  on  the  ground 
that  Burgoyne  was  still  in  front.  Two  days  after,  the  deci- 
sive battle  was  fought,  and  yet  he  retained  the  troops  until 
the  terms  of  the  capitulation  were  settled,  and  its  formali- 
ties gone  through  with. 

About  this  time  Washington  received  a  letter  from  Howe, 
in  which  the  latter  remonstrated  warmly  against  the  destruc- 
tion of  several  mills,  by  the  American  troops,  on  the  ground 
that  it  inflicted  distress  on  the  inhabitants.  Washington 
defended  his  conduct  as  perfectly  consistent  with  the  usages 
of  war,  and  added,  "  I  am  happy  to  find  that  you  express 
so  much  sensibility  to  the  sufferings  of  the  inhabitants,  as  it 
gives  room  to  hope  that  those  wanton  and  unnecessary  de- 


280  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

predations  which  have  heretofore,  in  many  instances,  marked 
the  conduct  of  your  army,  will  be  discontinued.  The  in- 
stances I  allude  to  need  not  be  enumerated ;  your  own 
memory  will  suggest  them  to  your  imagination,  from  the 
destruction  of  Charlestown,  in  Massachusetts,  down  to  the 
more  recent  burning  of  mills,  barns,  and  houses,  at  the  head 
of  Elk  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Schuylkill."  No  man  knew 
better  how  to  deal  these  severe  home  thrusts  than  Wash- 
ington. They  were  given,  however,  as  a  just  punishment, 
and  did  not  spring  from  a  revengeful  temper,  for  on  the 
very  day  the  flag  bore  this  caustic  note,  another  accompa- 
nied the  following  civil  card  :  "  General  Washington's  com- 
pliments to  General  Howe,  and  does  himself  the  pleasure  to 
return  to  him  a  dog  which  accidentally  fell  into  his  hands, 
and  by  the  inscription  on  the  collar  appears  to  belong  to 
General  Howe." 

The  two  armies  lying  so  near  each  other,  constant  skir- 
mishes took  place  between  detached  parties,  in  which  great 
skill  and  bravery  were  frequently  exhibited.  It  became 
very  difficult  for  Howe  to  collect  forage,  and  in  the  partisan 
warfare  which  the  attempt  created  the  British  were  sure  to 
be  losers. 

In  the  meantime,  Howe  pushed  his  efforts  to  clear  the 
Delaware  below  the  city,  so  that  the  fleet  could  come  up. 
Washington,  on  the  other  hand,  determined  at  all  hazards 
to  prevent  it ;  for  he  knew  that  unless  Howe  could  open  his 
communication  with  the  ships  he  would  be  compelled  to 
evacuate  Philadelphia.  Forts  Mercer  and  Mifflin,  on  Red 
and  Mud  Banks,  protected  by  a  fleet  of  galleys  and  other 
vessels,  under  the  command  of  Com.  Hazlewood,  was  the 
only  barrier  between  the  British  army  and  their  ships,  and 
against  these  Howe  immediately  directed  a  large  force. 
Col.  Christopher  Green,  with  four  hundred  men  from  the 
two  Hhode  Island  regiments,  garrisoned  Fort  Mercer,  while 
Colonel  Smith,  with  about  the  same  number  of  Maryland 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  283 

troops,  defended  Fort  Mifflin.  Count  Donop,  with  twelve 
hundred  Hessians,  was  sent  against  the  former,  and  early  in 
the  morning  of  the  22d  of  October,  suddenly  emerged  from 
the  woods  within  cannon  shot  of  the  fort.  The  little  garri- 
son was  taken  by  surprise,  but  not  unprepared.  In  a  few 
minutes  a  Hessian  officer  rode  up  with  a  flag,  and  ordered 
them  to  lay  down  their  arms,  declaring  that  if  they  refused 
no  quarter  would  be  given.  Enraged  at  this  insolent  de- 
mand, Colonel  Green  replied,  "  We  ask  no  quarter,  nor  will 
we  give  any."  With  this  murderous  understanding,  the  two 
armies  prepared  for  action.  Donop  immediately  ordered  a 
battery  to  be  erected,  within  half  gun  shot  of  the  fort,  and 
notwithstanding  the  cannonading  of  the  Americans,  com- 
pleted it,  and  at  four  o'clock  opened  his  fire.  He  played 
furiously  on  the  American  works  for  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  and  then  gave  orders  to  move  forward  to  the  assault. 
In  two  columns,  one  against  the  north  and  the  other  against 
the  south  side,  they  moved  swiftly  and  steadily  over  the 
intervening  space.  The  little  band  within  gazed  sternly  on 
the  overwhelming  numbers,  bearing  down  in  such  beautiful 
array,  resolved  to  die  where  they  stood  rather  than  surren- 
der. The  first  division,  finding  the  advanced  post  and  out- 
works abandoned,  imagined  the  Americans  had  left  them  in 
affright.  A  loud  cheer  rang  through  the  ranks,  a  lively 
march  was  struck  up,  and  the  column  moved  swiftly  forward 
toward  the  silent  redoubt  itself,  in  which  not  a  man  could 
be  seen.  The  soldiers  were  already  ascending  the  ramparts 
to  plant  upon  them  the  flag  of  victory,  when  suddenly  every 
embrasure  vomited  forth  fire,  while  a  shower  of  grape-shot 
from  a  partially  masked  battery  swept  them  away  with 
frightful  rapidity.  Stunned  and  overwhelmed,  they  broke 
and  fled  out  of  the  reach  of  the  fire.  The  troops  comprising 
the  other  column  approached  the  south  side  of  the  fort,  and 
pressing  gallantly  on,  passed  the  abattis,  crossed  the  ditch, 
and  were  pouring  over  the  pickets,  and  mounting  even  the 


284  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

parapets,  when  the  same  deadly  fire  smote  them  so  terribly 
that  they  recoiled  and  fled,  leaving  their  commander  mor- 
tally wounded  on  the  field.  The  next  day  he  died.  He 
was  only  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  and  just  before  his  death 
exclaimed,  "  It  is  finishing  a  noble  career  early,  but  I  die 
the  victim  of  my  ambition  and  the  avarice  of  my  sove- 
reign."* The  loss  of  the  enemy  was  about  four  hundred, 
while  that  of  the  Americans  was  but  thirty-eight.  The  first 
cannon  shot  aimed  at  Fort  Mercer  was  the  signal  for  the 
British  fleet  to  advance  against  Fort  Mifflin.  It  was,  how 
ever,  kept  at  bay  by  the  American  galleys  and  floating  bat- 
teries, and  did  not  make  its  attack  on  the  fort  till  next  day, 
when  the  Augusta,  of  sixty-four  guns,  the  Roebuck,  of 
forty-four,  two  frigates,  the  Merlin,  of  eighteen  guns,  and  a 
galley  opened  a  heavy  fire  on  the  fort  and  flotilla.  The 
Americans  replied  with  a  terrific  cannonade,  the  echoes 
rolling  up  the  Delaware,  filling  friends  and  foes  with  the 
deepest  anxiety.  But  the  balls  of  the  Americans  crashed 
so  incessantly  through  the  ships  that  the  commander  at 
length  gave  the  orders  to  fall  down  the  river  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  fire.  A  shot  had  set  the  Augusta  on  fire,  and 
at  noon  she  blew  up  with  a  tremendous  explosion.  Soon 
after,  the  Merlin  was  seen  to  be  in  a  blaze,  and  she  too  blew 
up,  when  the  enemy  withdrew.  The  officers  commanding 
both  forts  were  highly  complimented  by  Washington,  and 
swords  were  voted  them  and  Commodore  Hazlewood  by 
Congress.  Though  repulsed,  Howe  did  not  abandon  the 
attempt  to  force  the  passage  of  the  river,  and  thirty  vessels 
arriving,  not  long  after,  from  New  York,  bringing  reinforce- 
ments, he  set  on  foot  more  extensive  preparations.  Province 
Island,  in  rear  of  Mud  Island,  was  taken  possession  of,  and 
batteries  wore  erected,  while  a  large  fleet,  the  vessels  of 
which,  drawing  but  little  water,  assembled  near  the  forts. 

*  Referring  to  the  fact  that  the  troops  were  hired  to  England  solely  to  obtain 
money. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  285 

Washington,  from  his  camp  at  Whitemarsh,  saw  these  pre- 
parations with  the  extremest  anxiety.  With  the  fall  of  these 
forts  would  be  extinguished  his  last  hope  of  compelling  the 
British  to  evacuate  Philadelphia  that  season.  He  wished  to 
dislodge  the  enemy  on  Province  Island,  but  in  the  attempt 
he  would  expose  himself  to  an  attack  in  the  rear  by  Howe, 
who  had  thrown  a  bridge  across  the  Schuylkill,  and  could 
easily  reach  him  and  cut  off  his  retreat  with  a  vastly  supe- 
rior force.  Thus  fettered,  he  saw  the  works  go  up  day  by 
day,  and  the  vessels  and  floating  batteries  slowly  swing  to 
their  places,  and  a  circle  of  fire  gathering  around  Fort  Mif- 
flin,  from  which  nothing  but  a  miracle  could  deliver  it.  In 
the  meantime,  a  heavy  rain-storm  set  in,  and  the  fatigued 
soldiers  were  compelled,  in  relieving  guard,  often  to  wade 
breast-deep  in  the  water.  By  the  10th,  [Nov.,]  a  floating 
battery  of  twenty  heavy  cannons  had  been  brought,  through 
a  new  channel,  to  within  forty  yards  of  an  angle  of  the  fort, 
and  four  sixty-four,  and  two  forty  gun  ships  to  within  nine 
hundred  yards,  while  fourteen  strong  redoubts,  protected  by 
heavy  artillery,  covered  Province  Island. 

Against  this  formidable  array  Colonel  Smith  could  muster 
but  three  hundred  men,  protected  by  comparatively  few 
batteries.  At  noon,  on  the  10th,  the  cannonading  com- 
menced from  all  the  ships  and  land  batteries,  at  once,  and 
it  rained  shot  and  shells  upon  that  little  fort.  But  its  guns, 
trained  by  skillful  artillerists,  spoke  sharp  and  quick  amid 
the  deafening  echoes,  and  it  flamed  and  thundered  over  that 
low  island,  as  though  a  volcano  were  upheaving  it  from  the 
sea.  Before  night  the  commander  of  the  artillery  was  killed 
by  the  bursting  of  a  bomb,  and  the  pallisades  began  to  suffer. 
One  cannon  was  also  damaged.  All  night  long  the  heavens 
and  the  waters  were  illuminated  by  the  blaze  of  the  guns, 
whose  sullen  reverberations  rolled  with  a  boding  sound  over 
the  American  camp.  The  cannonading  continued  all  next 
day,  slowly  grinding  the  fort  to  powder.  Col.  Smith,  struck 


286  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

senseless  by  a  brick  which  a  cannon  ball  hurled  against  him 
in  its  passage  through  a  chimney,  was,  with  Capt.  George, 
also  wounded,  carried  over  to  Red  Bank.  The  enemy  played 
night  and  day,  without  cessation,  on  the  works,  to  prevent 
the  garrison  from  repairing  damages,  and  on  the  1 2th  dis- 
mounted two  eighteen-pounders.  The  next  day  the  ruin 
of  the  block-house  was  complete.  Lieutenant  Russel  suc- 
ceeded Colonel  Smith  in  command,  but  overcome  with 
fatigue,  withdrew,  and  Major  Thayer  volunteered  to  take 
his  place.  A  more  gallant  officer  was  never  inclosed  by  the 
walls  of  a  fort.  Against  the  hopeless  odds  that  pressed 
him  so  sorely,  with  his  cannon  dismounted  one  after  another, 
all  his  outworks  demolished,  and  his  garrison  thinned  off,  he 
bore  up  to  the  last,  refusing  to  yield  while  a  gun  could  carry 
shot.  The  scene  around  that  low  fort  at  night  was  inde 
scribably  grand  and  fearful.  Girdled  with  fire,  and  the 
target  for  so  many  cannon,  canopied  with  shells  bursting 
over  and  within,  it  still  spoke  forth  its  stern  defiance,  and 
answered  thunder  with  thunder.  On  the  13th,  the  heavy 
floating  battery  of  twenty  cannon,  anchored  within  pistol 
shot  of  the  fort,  opened  with  frightful  effect,  but  before  noon 
it  was  knocked  to  pieces  and  silenced  by  the  well-directed 
fire  of  Thayer's  artillery.  Thus  day  after  day  wore  on, 
while  the  garrison,  though  sick  and  exhausted,  stood  bravely 
to  their  guns.  All  this  time  Major  Fleury  sent  daily  dis- 
patches to  Washington.  A  mere  line  or  two  detailed  the 
progress  of  the  enemy.  Compelled  to  sit  listless  while  this 
brave  defense  was  going  on,  his  indignation  was  aroused 
against  Gates  and  Putnam,  for  their  refusal  to  send  the  re- 
inforcements he  had  demanded,  and  which  might  have  pre- 
vented the  terrible  calamities  that  nothing  now  seemed  able 
to  avert.  At  length  a  deserter  to  the  British  informed  the 
commanders,  to  their  astonishment,  of  the  breaking  up  ol 
flic  garrison.  The  attack  was  about  to  be  abandoned,  but 
encouraged  by  the  report  of  this  deserter,  they,  at  daylight 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  287 

on  the  15th,  brought  up  two  frigates  to  cannonade  the  fort 
in  front,  while  the  Vigilant,  cut  down  so  as  to  draw  little 
water,  was  carried  so  close  to  the  works  that  her  guns  over- 
looked those  within.  At  ten  o'clock  a  signal  bugle  rung 
out  over  the  water,  and  the  next  moment  a  terrific  cannon- 
ade opened.  The  effect  was  appalling.  The  already  half- 
destroyed  batteries  were  soon  completely  demolished,  the 
ditches  filled  with  ruins,  while  the  top-men  in  the  rigging 
of  the  Vigilant  picked  off  the  artillerists  on  the  platforms, 
and  cast  hand  grenades  into  their  midst.  With  only  two 
mounted  guns,  whose  echoes  could  scarcely  be  heard  in  the 
surrounding  uproar,  Thayer  still  kept  up  a  brave  defense. 
In  a  short  time  these  shared  the  fate  of  the  others,  and  before 
night  every  embrasure  was  in  ruins,  the  parapets  all  knocked 
away,  the  artillery  company  almost  to  a  man  killed  or  dis- 
abled, and  the  whole  fort  presenting  only  a  painful  wreck. 
As  darkness  approached,  Thayer  sent  over  to  Red  Bank  all 
the  garrison  but  forty  men.  With  these  he  remained  till 
midnight,  when,  seeing  that  every  defense  was  swept  away, 
and  the  enemy  making  preparations  for  storming  the  place 
in  the  morning,  he  set  fire  to  the  ruins,  and  by  the  light  ot 
the  flames  crossed  over  to  Red  Bank.  Scarcely  fifty  un- 
wounded  men  were  left  of  the  whole  garrison.  It  was  one 
of  the  most  obstinate  battles  that  had  yet  been  fought,  and 
stood  side  by  side  with  Arnold's  naval  action  on  Lake 
Champlain,  and  covered  the  heroes  of  it  with  honor. 

Fort  Mercer,  at  Red  Bank,  was  still  in  possession  of  the 
Americans,  and  Washington  strained  every  nerve  to  save 
it.  But  Green,  the  commander,  and  Morgan,  whom  he  sent 
to  his  relief,  were  too  weak  to  oppose  Cornwallis,  rapidly 
approaching  it  with  a  heavy  force.  Colonel  Green,  despair- 
ing of  succor,  at  length  abandoned  it,  leaving  all  the  artil- 
lery and  stores  in  possession  of  the  enemy.  The  American 
fleet,  no  longer  protected  by  the  forts,  was  now  inevitably 
lost.  Taking  advantage  of  a  dark  night,  some  of  the  galleys, 


288  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

and  two  or  three  small  vessels  crept  past  the  batteries  at 
Philadelphia,  and  escaped  up  the  river.  The  remaining 
portion,  seventeen  ships  in  all,  were  completely  hemmed  in 
by  the  enemy.  The  crews,  seeing  that  escape  was  impos- 
sible, set  them  on  fire  at  Gloucester  and  fled.  In  their 
blazing  timbers  was  consumed  the  last  hope  of  rescuing  Phi- 
ladelphia from  the  British.  The  Delaware  was  now  swept 
clear  of  every  battery  and  vessel,  and  the  enemy  could  sit 
down  in  safety  in  their  snug  winter  quarters.  The  reinforce- 
ments, so  culpably  withheld,  at  length  arrived,  but  too  late 
to  render  aid,  and  only  in  time  to  increase  the  suffering  and 
starvation  of  the  army. 

Howe,  elated  by  his  success,  and  strengthened  by  re- 
inforcements, resolved  to  advance  against  Washington,  and 
marched  his  army  within  two  or  three  miles  of  the  Ameri- 
can camp.  The  latter,  not  doubting  that  a  great  and  deci- 
sive battle  was  at  hand,  reviewed  his  troops  with  care,  told 
them  that  the  enemy  was  about  to  attack  them,  and  ex- 
pressed his  confidence  that  victory  would  remain  with  the 
Americans.  He  praised  the  patience  and  valor  of  those  who 
had  combated  with  him  at  Brandy  wine  and  Germantown, 
and  rousing  their  ambition  and  pride,  told  them  that  now 
was  the  time  to  show  the  conquerors  from  Saratoga,  who 
were  to  stand  by  their  sides  in  the  approaching  conflict,  that 
they  were  their  equals  in  heroism  and  love  of  country.  He 
addressed  the  northern  troops  in  language  of  praise,  saying 
that  they  were  about  to  have  another  opportunity  to  add 
fresh  laurels  to  those  which  they  had  so  gloriously  gained. 
He  spoke  of  their  common  country,  and  by  his  impassioned 
manner,  earnest  appeals,  and  noble  self-devotion,  kindled 
every  heart  with  enthusiasm  and  love,  till  even  the  half- 
clad,  half-famished,  and  worn-out  soldier  panted  equally 
with  the  strongest  and  freshest  for  the  conflict.  But  Howe, 
after  manocuvering  for  three  days  in  front  of  the  American 
lines,  concluded  not  to  venture  an  attack.  Having  lost  more 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  28£ 

than  a  hundred  men  in  the  skirmishes*  of  the  detached  par- 
ties with  Morgan's  riflemen,  he  at  length  retired  to  Phila- 
delphia, while  Washington,  weighed  down  with  care  and 
disappointment,  led  his  suffering,  starving  army  through  the 
snow  to  the  gloomy  encampment  of  Valley  Forge,  there  to 
make  up  the  most  sad  and  touching  chapter  in  our  history. 

It  seemed  at  this  time  as  if  Heaven  was  determined  to 
try  the  American  commander,  in  the  sevenfold  heated  fur- 
nace of  affliction,  for  while  struggling  against  the  mortifi- 
tion  and  disappointment  of  his  continued  failures,  and  against 
the  gloomy  prospect  before  him,  and  actual  suffering  of  his 
destitute  army,  and  compelled  to  bear  the  reproaches  of  men 
in  high  places  for  his  want  of  success,  he  saw  a  conspiracy 
forming  to  disgrace  him  from  his  command  as  unequal  to  its 
duties.  What  Washington  suffered  during  this  autumn  and 
winter  no  one  will  ever  know.  It  was  all  black  around  him 
and  before  him,  while,  to  crown  his  accumulated  afflictions, 
his  own  officers,  with  members  of  Congress,  were  plotting 
his  overthrow.  Yet  his  serenity  did  not  forsake  him.  Con- 
scious of  his  own  integrity,  caring  only  for  his  country,  the 
injurious  comparisons  drawn  between  him  and  Gates,  the 
falling  off  of  his  friends,  the  disloyalty  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  the  dreadful  trials  he  knew  to  be  in  store  for  him,  could 
not  move  him  to  jealousy,  or  awaken  an  angry  expression, 
or  force  him  to  despair.  All  the  shafts  which  misfortune 
hurled  at  him  fell  powerless  at  his  feet.  Still  he  felt  for  his 
country.  Here  was  his  vulnerable  point.  Her  danger  and 
sufferings  aroused  all  the  terrible  and  the  tender  in  his 
nature. 

Much  has  been  said  of  the  Conway  cabal,  and  various 
accounts  of  its  origin  and  progress  given.  The  whole  affair, 
however,  admits  of  an  easy  and  natural  explanation.  A  man 
rising,  like  Washington,  to  power  in  troublous  times,  will 

*  Major  Morris,  fresh  from  Saratoga,  was  killed  in  one  of  these  skirmishes. 


290  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

always  make  rivals  and  enemies.  There  will  be  one  class 
of  officers  who,  having  a  high  opinion  of  their  own  merit, 
will  resent  any  refusal  to  their  claims,  and  become  secretly 
embittered.  Such  were  Gates  and  Mifflin,  who  never  for- 
gave Washington  for  not  granting  their  requests  at  Boston, 
the  former  to  have  command  of  a  brigade  to  which  he  con- 
sidered himself  entitled,  and  the  latter  that  of  a  regiment. 
There  are  others,  mere  ambitious  adventurers,  who,  if  foiled 
in  their  efforts  in  one  quarter,  will  endeavor  to  succeed  in 
another,  and  placing  their  personal  aggrandizement  before 
every  thing  else,  are  ripe  for  conspiracies,  revolutions,  or 
any  thing  that  promises  to  advance  their  own  interests. 
Such  was  Conway.  There  is  still  a  third  class  who  measure 
excellence  by  success,  and  whose  feelings  grow  cold  toward 
a  defeated  commander.  Such  were  some  in  the  army,  and 
some  in  Congress,  and  many  in  the  higher  walks  of  social 
life.  Then  each  of  these  has  personal  friends  more  or  less 
impressible.  Added  to  all  these,  there  were,  in  the  case  of 
Washington,  men  of  influence  who,  while  they  had  the 
reputation  of  being  patriots,  secretly  inclined  to  the  loy- 
alists, and  would  gladly  seize  the  first  opportunity  to  over- 
throw the  only  man  that  stood  in  the  way  of  the  submission 
of  the  colonies.  All  these  classes  and  characters  remain 
quiet  so  long  as  they  see  that  the  man  they  assail  is  too 
strong  in  popular  affection  or  in  power  to  be  attacked  with 
safety.  But  the  moment  his  own  misfortunes,  or  the  suc- 
cesses of  others,  weaken  that  popularity,  and  sap  that 
strength,  they  combine  against  him,  and  what  was  before 
mere  private  complaints  and  abuse,  becomes  organized 
action.  By  this  natural  process  the  Conway  cabal,  doubt- 
less, was  formed.  Conway  was  an  unscrupulous,  dangerous 
man,  and  had  joined  the  army  as  a  mere  adventurer. 
Although  an  Englishman  by  birth,  he  had  lived  in  France 
since  he  was  six  vears  of  atj;e.  and  seen  much  service  in  the 

»/  o     J 

French  army.     lie  came  to  this  country  with  high  recom- 


Washington  midway  between  the  two  Armies  at  Princeton. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  293 

mendations,  and  was  appointed  by  Congress  brigadier- 
general.  Arrogant,  boastful,  and  selfish,  he  was  especially 
repugnant  to  Washington,  who,  with  his  deep  insight,  pene- 
trated the  hollow  character  of  the  man  at  once,  and  would 
never  trust  him.  He,  therefore,  stood  in  Conway's  way, 
and  the  latter  would  naturally  seize  the  first  opportunity  to 
help  remove  him.  The  constant  defeats  in  Pennsylvania, 
during  the  summer  of  1777,  gave  great  weight  to  his 
opinion  against  Washington's  military  capacity,  and  it  was 
not  difficult  to  win  over  many  members  of  a  Congress  so 
contemptible  as  the  one  which  then  ruled  our  affairs.  Still 
there  was  a  great  difficulty  in  taking  the  initiatory  steps. 
If  Washington  could  be  displaced,  there  was  no  leader  suffi- 
ciently popular  to  secure  the  confidence  and  cooperation  of 
the  people  and  the  army.  If  successful,  therefore,  in  its 
first  attempt,  the  plot  would  afterward  fall  to  the  ground 
through  its  own  weakness.  But  the  great  and  decided  vic- 
tory of  Gates  over  Burgoyne,  linking  his  name  with  plaudits 
and  honors  all  over  the  land,  contrasting  as  it  did  with 
Washington's  successive  defeats  and  helpless  condition,  gave 
to  the  former  the  very  prominence,  the  want  of  which  had 
hitherto  brought  every  thing  to  a  dead  lock.  From  this 
moment  the  malcontents  grew  bold,  and  the  conspiracy 
strengthened  with  wonderful  rapidity.  Gates,  an  essen- 
tially weak,  vain  man,  was  just  the  tool  to  be  used  in  this 
nefarious  scheme.  He  entertained  no  more  doubt  of  his 
superiority  to  Washington  as  a  military  man,  than  his  friends 
appeared  to,  and  would  have  had  no  hesitation  in  accepting 
the  chief  command.  The  first  thing  to  be  secured  was  the 
cooperation  of  a  Sufficient  number  of  the  superior  officers. 
Congress  was  already  corrupted  to  an  extent  that  promised 
success,  and  the  army  alone  was  wanting  to  take  a  decided 
step  at  once.  The  officers  were  cautiously  sounded,  but 
here  the  conspirators  made  poor  progress.  The  remark 
which  Wilkinson  dropped  to  Stirling,  and  which  exploded 

16 


294  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  whole  scheme,  was  evidently  thrown  out  as  a  feeler. 
As  if  in  casual  conversation,  he  remarked  that  Conway  had 
written  to  Gates,  saying — "  Heaven  has  been  determined  to 
save  your  country,  or  a  weak  general  and  bad  counsellors 
would  have  ruined  it."  This  brought  on  a  correspondence 
between  different  parties,  and  developed,  at  once,  the  feel- 
ings of  both  the  army  and  the  people. 

Patrick  Henry,  Governor  of  Virginia,  received  an  anony- 
mous letter,  which  Washington  ascribed  to  Dr.  Rush,  in 
which,  after  some  flattery,  the  latter  says — "  A  dreary  wil- 
derness is  still  before  us,  and  unless  a  Moses  or  a  Joshua 
are  raised  up  in  our  behalf,  we  must  perish  before  we  reach 
the  promised  land;"  and  again,  "  The  spirit  of  the  southern 
army  is  no  way  inferior  to  the  northern.  A  Gates,  a  Lee, 
or  a  Conway,  would,  in  a  few  weeks,  render  them  an  irre- 
sistible body  of  men."  This  letter  Patrick  Henry  inclosed 
to  Washington,  accompanying  it  with  his  severe  condemna- 
tion. Said  he,  "  I  am  sorry  there  should  be  one  man  who 
counts  himself  my  friend,  who  is  not  yours."  Another 
anonymous  paper  was  sent  to  Laurens,  President  of  Con- 
gress, filled  with  accusations  against  Washington  and  his 
course.  This,  Laurens  refused  to  lay  before  Congress,  and 
sent  it  to  Washington,  with  his  condemnation  of  the  writer. 
The  latter  replied,  saying  he  hoped  that  the  paper  would 
be  submitted  to  Congress,  that  the  charges  it  contained 
might  be  investigated,  and  added,  "  My  enemies  take  un- 
generous advantage  of  me.  They  know  the  delicacy  of  my 
situation,  and  that  motives  of  policy  deprive  me  of  the 
defense  that  I  might  otherwise  make  against  their  insidious 
attacks.  They  know  I  cannot  combat  their  insinuations, 
however  injurious,  without  disclosing  secrets  which  it  is  of 
the  utmost  moment  to  conceal.  My  heart  tells  me  that  it 
has  been  my  unremitted  aim  to  do  the  best  that  circum- 
stances would  permit,  yet  I  may  have  been  very  often  mis- 
taken in  my  judgment  of  the  means,  and  may  in  many 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  295 

instances  deserve  the  imputation  of  error."  Patrick  Henry, 
hearing  of  the  part  General  Mifflin  was  taking  in  the  con- 
spiracy, wrote  again  to  Washington,  to  comfort  and 
strengthen  him.  Said  he,  "  While  you  face  the  armed  ene- 
mies of  our  country  in  the  field,  and,  by  the  favor  of  God, 
have  been  kept  unhurt,  I  trust  your  country  will  never 
harbor  in  her  bosom  the  miscreant  who  would  ruin  her 
best  supporter."  Letters  from  others  came  pouring  in, 
showing  what  a  stern  rally  his  friends  would  make  when 
action  became  necessary.  Conway  endeavored  to  make 
friends  with  Lafayette  by  flattery  and  falsehood,  but  the 
young  patriot  penetrated  at  once,  and  denounced  the  vil- 
lainous faction  which  sought  to  make  him  its  tool.  He 
wrote  to  Washington  a  long  letter,  stating  that  the  con- 
spiracy had  involved  many  in  the  army,  but  closed  by  say- 
ing, "  J  am  bound  to  your  fate,  and  I  shall  follow  it,  and  sustain 
it  as  well  by  my  sword  as  by  all  the  means  in  my  power.  You 
will  pardon  my  importunity.  Youth  and  friendship  make 
me  too  warm,  but  I  feel  the  greatest  concern  at  recent 
events."  Washington  replied  to  this  free  and  full  offer  of 
his  sword  and  his  efforts,  in  terms  of  warm  affection.  He 
had,  from  the  outset,  taken  him  like  a  son  to  his  bosom, 
and  loved  him  with  parental  affection  to  the  last.  Not- 
withstanding these  ominous  exhibitions  of  popular  feeling, 
and  directly  in  the  teeth  of  Washington's  most  earnest, 
solemn,  and  even  prophetic  remonstrances,  Congress  raised 
Conway  to  the  rank  of  major-general,  and  made  him 
inspector-general  of  the  army.  It  also  created  a  Board  of 
War,  invested  with  large  powers,  and  placed  Conway,  Mif- 
flin and  Gates  at  the  head  of  it.  This  board  immediately 
planned  an  expedition  to  Canada,  the  command  of  which 
was  offered,  as  a  bribe,  to  Lafayette.  The  latter  carried  the 
offer  directly  to  Washington,  telling  him  he  should  decline. 
Washington  advised  him  not  to  do  so,  as  the  appointment 
was  an  honorable  one,  and  would  advance  his  reputation 


296  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

He,  therefore,  accepted,  and  went  to  Yorktown  to  meet  the 
Board  of  War.  On  his  arrival,  he  found  General  Gates  at 
dinner,  surrounded  by  his  friends,  all  of  whom  received  him 
with  the  warmest  expression  of  friendship.  He  sat  down 
to  the  table,  and  the  wine  passed  rapidly  around  as  com- 
plimentary toasts  were  given  in  turn  by  the  guests.  Just 
as  the  company  was  about  to  break  up,  Lafayette  remarked 
that,  with  their  permission,  he  would  propose  a  toast.  The 
glasses  were  filled,  when,  looking  steadily  at  those  around  him, 
he  said,  "  The  Commander-in-chief  of  the  American  Armies." 
They,  by  a  great  effort,  succeeded  in  swallowing  the  toast, 
but  Lafayette  never  went  to  Canada.  The  strength  of  the 
conspiracy  lay  in  Congress,  where  it  had  reached  to  an 
alarming  extent.  But  of  the  plots  then  hatched,  and  the 
men  who  then  showed  themselves  to  be  enemies  of  Wash- 
ington, we  yet  remain  in  ignorance,  and  perhaps  ever  shall. 
The  record  of  their  deeds  is  destroyed.  In  a  letter  to  me, 
a  gentleman  thoroughly  informed  on  matters  of  American 
history,  says — "  It  has  been  said  over  and  over  again,  and 
by  those  best  able  to  speak,  that  the  history  of  our  Revolu- 
tion could  not  be  written  for  many  years  to  come — some 
say  never — and,  as  to  some  parts  of  it,  I  subscribe  to  the 
latter.  The  diary  of  Charles  Thompson,  Secretary  to  Con* 
gress,  was  destroyed.  It  was  more  than  full,  and  something 
of  its  character  was  known.  Colonel  North,  too,  kept  a 
full  diary,  of  such  a  character  that  not  even  his  own  son 
was  permitted  to  see  certain  parts  of  it.  It  too  was  de- 
stroyed. When  success  crowned  the  patriotic  struggle, 
those  who  had  faltered  and  wavered,  gladly  destroyed  the 
evidence  of  their  weakness,  while  the  generosity  which  filled 
the  brave  men  who  never  despaired,  led  them  to  cover  the 
shortcomings  of  their  weaker  brethren."  There  is  food  for 
much  thought  in  the  above  paragraph.  If  Dr.  Rush's 
papers  could  be  obtained  for  publication,  they  would,  doubt- 
less, fling  some  light  on  this  transaction.  But  all  efforts  to 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  297 

get  them  have  thus  far  proved  abortive.  After  agitating 
the  army  and  the  country  for  awhile,  the  conspiracy  at 
length  fell  through.  Conwav,  one  of  the  leaders,  was  after- 
ward shot  in  a  duel,  and,  supposing  himself  to  be  dying, 
wrote  to  Washington,  "  I  find  myself  just  able  to  hold  the  pen 
during  a  few  minutes,  and  take  this  opportunity  of  express- 
ing my  sincere  grief  for  having  done,  written,  or  said  any 
thing  disagreeable  to  your  excellency.  My  career  will  soon 
be  over ;  therefore,  justice  and  truth  prompt  me  to  declare 
my  last  sentiments.  You  are,  in  my  eyes,  the  great  and 
good  man.  May  you  long  enjoy  the  love,  veneration  and 
esteem  of  those  States  whose  liberties  you  have  asserted  by 
your  virtues."  Gates,  the  chief  leader,  shorn  of  all  his 
stolen  plumes  by  his  disastrous  defeat  at  Camden — recalled 
in  disgrace  by  the  very  Congress  which  had  lauded  him — 
mortified,  humbled  and  depressed,  was  compelled  at  last  to 
receive  the  condolence  and  sympathy  of  the  man  whose 
overthrow  he  had  plotted.  Mrfflin,  the  other  leading  officer, 
did  not  receive  the  punishment  he  deserved,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  rewarded  with  honor  by  his  State.  Washington 
had  remained  unmoved  amid  it  all.  Calm  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  integrity,  indifferent  to  the  power  and  place  he 
occupied,  only  as  he  could  use  them  to  serve  his  country, 
upheld  by  that  serene  trust  in  Heaven  which  he  believed 
had  ordained  the  triumph  of  liberty,  he  moved  steadily  for- 
ward in  the  path  of  duty  and  of  trial.  Like  the  mountain 
summit,  around  which  the  mists  of  morning  gather,  only 
to  dissolve  before  the  uprisen  sun,  so  he,  under  the  light  of 
truth,  emerged  from  the  partial  obscuration  with  undimmed 
splendor,  and  with  a  cloudless  heaven  bending  above  him. 
But  the  deed  deserved  a  deep  reprobation  from  its  cruelty, 
and  from  the  peril  in  which  it  brought  the  country.  To  add 
to  the  suffering  which  Washington  already  endured,  and 
weave  a  plot  designed  to  effect  his  ruin  around  the  gloomy 


298  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

encampment  at  Valley  Forge,  revealed  hearts  hard  as  iron 
to  all  generous  and  honorable  appeals. 

I  have  not  mentioned  as  a  part  of  the  Conway  conspiracy, 
as  it  is  called,  the  publication  of  some  forged  private  letters, 
said  to  have  been  found  in  Washington's  valise  when  he  fled 
over  the  Hudson  into  Jersey,  and  which  contained  opinions 
adverse  to  the  independence  of  the  colonies.  Writers  have 
dwelt  with  more  or  less  severity  on  this  matter.  But  the 
attempt  was  so  absurd  that  I  cannot  conceive  that  it  could 
have  formed  a  part  of  the  scheme  itself.  It  must  have  been 
the  private  enterprise  of  some  very  weak-headed  or  ignorant 
man.  That  an  anonymous  publication  could  weigh  a  feather 
against  Washington's  public  acts  and  sacrifices,  was  an  ex- 
pectation too  preposterous  to  be  entertained  by  any  sensible 
persons.  Washington,  at  the  time,  did  not  even  take  the 
trouble  to  deny  it. 

Valley  Forge  !  What  thoughts  and  emotions  are  awakened 
at  the  mention  of  that  name.  Sympathy  and  admiration, 
pity  and  love,  tears  and  smiles  chase  each  other  in  rapid 
succession,  as  one  in  imagination  goes  over  the  history  of 
that  wintry  encampment.  Never  before  was  there  such  an 
exhibition  of  the  triumph  of  patriotism  over  neglect  and 
want ;  of  principle  over  physical  sufferings ;  of  virtue  over 
the  pangs  of  starvation.  Those  tattered,  half-clad,  and 
bare-foot  soldiers,  wan  with  want,  taking  up  their  slow 
march  for  the  wintry  forest,  leaving  their  bloody  testimo- 
nials on  every  foot  of  the  frozen  ground  they  traversed, 
furnish  one  of  the  sublimest  scenes  in  history.  A  cloud, 
black  as  sackcloth,  seems  to  hang  over  their  fortunes,  but 
through  it  shoots  rays  of  dazzling  brightness.  A  murmur, 
like  the  first  cadences  of  a  death-song,  heralds  their  march, 
but  there  is  an  undertone  of  strange  meaning  and  sublime 
power,  for  no  outward  darkness  can  quench  the  light  of  a 
great  soul,  no  moans  of  suffering  drown  the  language  of 
a  lofty  purpose. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  299 

The  encampment  at  Valley  Forge  was  chosen  after  much 
deliberation,  and  frequent  consultations  among  the  officers. 
Various  propositions  were  made,  but  to  each  and  all  there 
were  many  and  grave  objections.  Of  course,  the  first  and 
natural  wish  was  to  keep  the  army  in  the  field ;  but  with 
such  naked  troops  this  would  be  impossible,  and  every  feel- 
ing of  humanity  in  Washington  revolted  from  making  the 
attempt.  But  how  and  where  to  quarter  them  seemed 
equally  difficult.  It  was  proposed  to  retire  to  the  towns  in 
the  interior  of  the  state ;  but  to  this  there  was  the  two-fold 
objection — that  of  inflicting  the  same  destitution  and  suffer- 
ing on  the  inhabitants,  and  of  leaving  a  large  extent  of 
country  unprotected,  with  forage  and  stores  in  possession 
of  the  enemy.  To  distribute  the  troops  in  different  sections 
would  render  them  liable  to  be  cut  off  in  detail.  Washing- 
ton, therefore,  determined  to  take  to  the  woods,  near  his 
enemy,  and  there  hut,  so  that  he  could  both  protect  the 
country  and  his  stores,  and  also  be  in  striking  distance  in 
case  of  need. 

The  army  commenced  its  march  on  the  llth  of  Decem- 
ber, but  did  not  reach  the  place  selected  for  the  encampment 
till  the  19th.  In  his  order  of  the  day,  dated  December  17th, 
Washington  informed  the  troops  of  his  decision,  and  the 
reasons  which  urged  him  to  it.  He  also  praised  their  good 
conduct  during  the  tedious  campaign  now  closed,  declared 
that  it  furnished  evidence  that  their  cause  would  finally 
triumph,  even  if  the  colonies  were  left  alone  in  the  struggle, 
but  added  that  there  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  France 
would  soon  ally  herself  openly  against  England.  He  pro- 
mised to  share  in  the  hardships,  and  partake  of  every  incon- 
venience. The  next  day  had  been  appointed  by  Congress 
as  a  day  of  thanksgiving  and  praise.  The  army,  therefore, 
remained  quiet  in  their  quarters,  and  divine  service  was  held 
in  the  "  several  corps  and  brigades,"  by  the  chaplains,  and 
hymns  of  praise  and  the  voice  of  prayer  arose  there  on  the 


300  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

confines  of  the  bleak  forest,  from  men  who,  to  all  human 
appearance,  had  little  to  be  thankful  for,  except  nakedness, 
famine,  and  frost.  The  next  day  the  work  of  hutting  com- 
menced. Each  regiment  was  divided  into  parties  of  twelve, 
each  party  to  make  its  own  hut,  which  was  to  be  of  logs, 
fourteen  by  sixteen  feet  on  the  ground,  and  six  feet  and  a 
half  high.  The  sides  were  to  be  made  tight  with  clay,  and 
the  roof  with  split  slabs,  or  such  material  as  could  be  ob- 
tained. To  stimulate  the  parties  to  greater  exertion,  Wash- 
ington offered  a  reward  of  one  dollar  to  each  man  of  that  party 
which  finished  its  hut  in  the  shortest  time  and  most  work- 
manlike manner.  Fearing  that  there  would  not  be  slabs  or 
boards  sufficient  for  roofing,  he  offered  a  reward,  also,  of  a 
hundred  dollars  to  any  one  who  should  "  substitute  some 
other  covering,"  that  might  be  more  cheaply  and  quickly 
made.  In  a  short  time  the  arms  were  all  stacked,  and  with 
their  axes  and  other  tools  in  their  hands,  this  army  of  eleven 
thousand  men,  with  the  exception  of  about  three  thousand 
who  were  unfit  for  duty,  was  scattered  through  the  woods 
The  scene  they  presented  was  strange  and  picturesque. 
There  was  not  a  murmur  or  complaintj  and  with  laugh,  and 
song,  and  loud  hallo,  they  went  about  their  allotted  toil. 
The  forest  soon  rung  with  the  strokes  of  the  axe,  and  the 
rapid  and  incessant  crash  of  falling  trees  resounded  along 
the  shores  of  the  Schuylkill.  Little  clearings  were  rapidly 
made,  the  foundations  of  huts  laid,  and  a  vast  settlement 
began  to  spring  up  along  the  valley  and  slopes  of  the  hills. 
But  here  and  there  were  scattered  groups  of  fifties  and  hun- 
dreds, sitting  around  huge  fires,  some  of  them  with  scarcely 
a  rag  to  cover  their  nakedness,  crouching  closely  to  the 
crackling  logs  to  escape  the  piercing  December  blast ;  others 
sick  and  emaciated,  gazing  listlessly  on  the  flames,  their 
sunken  and  sallow  visages  clearly  foretelling  what  would 
be  their  fate  before  the  winter  i\ow  setting  in  was  over.  In 
another  direction  were  seen  men  harnessed  together  like 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  303 

beasts  of  burden,  and  drawing  logs  to  the  place  of  destina- 
tion. Washington's  tent  was  pitched  on  the  brow  of  a 
hill  overlooking  this  strange  spectacle.  One  after  another 
the  rude  structures  went  up,  till  a  log  city,  containing  be- 
tween one  and  two  thousand  dwellings,  stood  in  the  clear- 
ings that  had  been  made.  Over  the  ground  floor  straw  was 
scattered,  and  into  these  the  "  Sons  of  Liberty,"  as  Colonel 
Barre  had  christened  them,  in  the  English  Parliament,  crept 
to  starve  and  to  die.  The  officer's  huts  were  ranged  in  lines 
in  the  rear  of  those  of  the  soldiers,  one  being  allowed  to 
each  of  all  those  who  bore  commissions,  the  whole  being 
surrounded  with  intrenchments.  But  scarcely  had  the  troops 
got  into  these  comfortless  houses,  when  there  began  to  be  a 
want  of  food  in  camp.  Congress,  with  that  infallible  cer- 
tainty of  doing  the  wrong  thing,  had  recently,  against 
Washington's  advice,  made  a  change  in  the  quarter-master's 
and  commissary's  department,  by  which,  in  this  critical 
juncture,  the  army  was  left  without  provisions.  In  the  mean- 
time, news  came  that  a  large  party  of  the  enemy  was  ad- 
vancing in  the  country  to  forage.  Washington  immediately 
ordered  the  troops  to  be  in  readiness  to  march,  when,  to  his 
surprise,  he  found  that  they  were  wholly  unable  to  stir,  for 
want  of  food,  and  that  a  dangerous  mutiny  had  broken  out. 
The  soldiers  were  willing  to  suffer  or  die,  if  necessary,  but 
they  would  not  submit  to  the  neglect  and  indifference  of 
Congress,  which  they  knew  could  easily  relieve  their  wants. 
The  statements  made  by  the  different  officers  were  of  the 
most  alarming  kind.  General  Huntingdon  wrote  a  note  to 
Washington,  saying  that  his  brigade  was  out  of  provisions, 
but  he  held  it  in  readiness  to  march,  as  "fighting  was  far 
preferable  to  starving."  General  Varnum  wrote,  also,  saying 
that  his  division  had  been  two  days  without  meat,  and  three 
days  without  bread,  and  that  the  men  must  be  supplied,  or 
they  could  not  be  commanded;  still  they  were  ready  to 
march,  as  any  change  was  better  than  slow  starvation.  On 


304  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

inquiry  there  was  found  only  one  purchasing  commissary  in 
camp,  and  he  made  the  frightful  report  of  not  a  "  single 
hoof  of  any  kind  to  slaughter,  and  not  more  than  twenty-five 
barrels  of  flour"  to  the  whole  army.  Only  small  detach- 
ments, therefore,  could  be  sent  out.  These  hovered  about 
the  enemy,  now  bursting  on  a  small  party  from  some  forest, 
and  again  surrounding  the  dwelling  where  they  were  repos- 
ing. The  weather  came  on  intensely  cold,  and  the  soldiers 
could  hardly  handle  their  muskets  with  their  stiffened 
fingers.  They  rarely  entered  a  house,  and  dared  not  kindle 
a  fire  at  night,  lest  it  should  reveal  their  position  to  the 
enemy. 

Thus,  for  a  week,  they  kept  marching  and  skirmishing, 
till  the  enemy  withdrew  to  Philadelphia,  when  they  returned 
to  camp,  having  collected  but  little  forage.  Here  suffering 
and  want  were  fast  bringing  things  to  a  crisis.  The  soldiers 
were  at  first  satisfied  with  the  excuse  given  for  the  delay  of 
provisions,  viz :  that  the  rains  had  made  the  roads  almost 
impassable.  But  day  after  day  passing  without  relief,  they 
began  to  complain,  and  soon  their  murmurs  swelled  to  loud 
clamors  and  threats.  First  the  different  regiments  began 
to  assemble,  and  the  excitement  increasing,  whole  brigades 
and  divisions  gathered  together  without  order,  and  against 
the  commands  of  their  officers.  The  latter  did  not  attempt 
to  enforce  obedience,  but  spoke  kindly  to  them,  saying  that 
Washington  was  aware  of  their  suffering  condition,  that  it 
grieved  him  to  the  heart,  and  he  was  straining  every  nerve 
to  obtain  relief.  Washington  himself  exhorted  them  to  be 
obedient,  saying  that  provisions  would  soon  be  in  camp,  and 
insubordination  could  result  only  in  evil.  The  soldiers,  in 
return,  were  calm  and  respectful.  They  told  him  they 
knew  that  their  conduct  was  mutinous,  but  their  condition 
justified  it.  They  were  actually  starving,  and  relief  must 
be  had.  They  then  respectfully  communicated  to  him  their 
fixed  determination,  which  was  to  march  in  an  orderly  man- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  305 

ner  into  the  country,  seize  provisions  wherever  they  could 
lay  hands  on  them,  giving  in  return  certificates  as  to  the 
amount  and  value  of  the  articles  taken,  and  then  return  to 
camp,  and  to  their  duty.  Never  before  was  there  a  mutiny 
so  devoid  of  crime,  and  which,  in  fact,  partook  of  the  moral 
sublime.  Their  language  was,  "  We  are  starving  here,  and 
shall  soon  be  of  no  service  to  you  or  our  country.  We  love 
you,  and  the  cause  in  which  we  are  embarked.  We  will 
stand  by  you  at  all  hazards,  and  defend  with  our  last  drop 
of  blood  our  common  country,  but  food  we  must  and  will 
have.'*  Washington  was  overcome  by  the  condition  and 
conduct  of  these  men.  So  self-sustained  in  their  sufferings — 
so  constant  to  him  in  their  destitution — so  firm  for  their 
country,  though  abandoned  by  Congress,  their  language  and 
attitude  moved  him  deeply.  There  was  something  inex- 
pressibly touching  in  the  noble  regret  they  manifested  for 
appearing  to  be  disobedient,  and  the  high,  manty  grounds  in 
which  they  defended  their  conduct.  Washington,  in  reply, 
told  them  that  he  was  well  aware  of  the  sufferings  of  his 
faithful  soldiers.  He  had  long  admired  their  patience  and 
resignation,  and  devotion  to  their  country,  under  the  most 
trying  circumstances,  and  if  the  provisions  did  not  arrive  by 
a  specified  hour,  he  would  place  himself  at  their  head,  and 
march  into  the  country  till  they  were  found.  To  this  they 
consented,  but  the  promised  supplies  arriving  before  the 
time  fixed  had  expired,  quietness  and  subordination  were 
restored,  and  a  movement,  the  results  of  which  could  not 
be  foreseen,  prevented. 

This  supply,  however,  was  soon  exhausted,  and  then  the 
same  scenes  of  suffering  were  repeated.  Nearly  all  the 
inhabitants  in  the  vicinity  of  Valley  Forge  were  Tories,  and 
hence  withheld  the  food  they  could  have  furnished.  Find- 
ing that  neither  offers  of  pay  nor  threats  could  wring  it  from 
them,  Washington,  acting  under  a  resolution  of  Congress, 
issued  a  proclamation  in  which  he  ordered  all  the  farmers 


306  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

within  seventy  miles  of  Valley  Forge,  to  thresh  out  half 
their  grain  by  the  first  of  February,  and  the  other  half  by 
the  first  of  March,  under  penalty  of  having  the  whole 
seized  as  straw.  The  Tories  refused  to  comply,  and  many 
of  them  defended  their  barns  and  stacks  with  fire-arms. 
Some,  unable  to  do  this,  set  fire  to  their  grain,  to  prevent 
its  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Americans.  The  soldiers 
turned  themselves  into  pack-horses,  yoked  themselves  to 
wagons,  and  shrunk  from  no  labor  required  to  bring  in  pro- 
visions. But  all  the  efforts  and  ingenuity  of  Washington 
could  not  prevent  the  gaunt  figure  of  famine  from  stalking 
through  his  camp.  Horses  died  for  want  of  forage,  and  the 
men  became  so  reduced  that  scarcely  enough  could  be  found 
fit  "  to  discharge  the  military  camp  duties  from  day  to 
day ;"  and  even  these  few  were  compelled  to  borrow  clothes 
to  cover  their  nakedness  while  performing  them. 

A  week  passed  without  a  pound  of  flesh  being  brought 
into  camp,  and  at  last  the  bread  gave  out,  and  for  several 
days  the  starving  soldiers  had  not  a  morsel  to  eat.  Heavy 
snow-storms,  followed  by  excessive  frosts,  swelled  the  suf- 
ferings that  before  seemed  unbearable.  So  few  blankets 
had  been  supplied  that  the  benumbed  soldiers  were  com- 
pelled to  sleep  sitting  around  their  fires,  to  prevent  freezing. 
Many  were  so  naked  that  they  could  not  show  themselves 
outside  of  their  huts,  but  hid  shivering  away  in  the  scanty 
straw.  Others  would  flit  from  hut  to  hut,  with  only  a  loose 
blanket  to  cover  their  otherwise  naked  forms.  These  huts, 
half  closed  up  with  snow,  and  the  men  wading  around  in 
their  rags  to  beat  paths,  presented  a  singular  spectacle  of  a 
bright  wintry  morning.  In  the  midst  of  this  accumulation 
of  woes,  the  small-pox  broke  out,  and  Washington  was  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  inoculation  to  prevent  the  severer  ravages 
of  the  disease.  The  sick,  in  consequence,  were  everywhere, 
and  without  blankets  or  provisions  and  hospital  stores,  and 
stretched  on  the  earth  wet  and  frosty,  by  turns,  presented 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  307 

a  scene  of  woe  and  wretchedness  that  beggars  description. 
Starvation  and  despair  will  in  the  end  demoralize  the  noblest 
army  that  ever  defended  a  holy  cause,  and  they  at  length 
began  to  tell  on  this  band  of  patriots.  A  foreign  officer,  in 
walking  through  the  encampment  one  day  with  Washington, 
heard  through  the  crevices  of  the  huts  as  he  passed,  half- 
naked  men  muttering,  "  na  pay,  no  clothes,  no  rum."  Then 
he  said  he  despaired  of  American  Liberty.  Had  Howe  been 
made  aware  of  this  deplorable  state  of  the  army,  he  could 
have  with  a  single  blow  crushed  it  to  atoms.  Amid  this 
woe  and  suffering,  Washington  moved  with  a  calm  mien  but 
a  breaking  heart.  The  piteous  looks  and  haggard  appear- 
ance of  his  poor  soldiers — the  consciousness  that  his  army 
was  powerless  to  resent  any  attack  of  the  enemy,  nay,  on 
the  point  of  dissolution,  never  probably  to  be  reunited,  all 
combined  to  press  him  so  heavily  with  care,  that  even  he 
must  have  sunk  under  it  had  he  not  put  his  trust  in  a  higher 
power  than  man.  One  day  a  Quaker,  by  the  name  of  Potts, 
was  strolling  up  a  creek,  when  he  heard,  in  a  secluded  spot, 
the  solemn  voice  of  some  one  apparently  engaged  in  prayer. 
Stealing  quietly  forward,  he  saw  Washington's  horse  tied  to 
a  sapling,  and  a  little  farther  on,  in  a  thicket,  the  chief 
himself,  on  his  knees,  and  with  tears  streaming  down  his 
cheeks,  beseeching  Heaven  for  his  country  and  his  army. 
Before  God  alone,  that  strong  heart  gave  way,  and  poured 
forth  the  full  tide  of  its  griefs  and  anxieties.  Though  the 
heavens  grew  dark  around  him,  and  disaster  after  disaster 
wrecked  his  brightest  hopes,  and  despair  settled  down  on 
officers  and  men,  he  showed  the  same  unalterable  presence — 
moved  the  same  tower  of  strength.  But  to  his  God  he  could 
safely  go  with  his  troubles,  and  on  that  arm  securely  lean. 
How  sublime  does  he  appear,  and  how  good  and  holy  the 
cause  he  was  engaged  in  seems,  as  he  thus  carries  it  to  the 
throne  of  a  just  God,  feeling  that  it  has  his  sanction  and 
can  claim  his  protection. 


308  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

The  poor  man  who  had  witnessed  this  spectacle  hurried 
home,  and  on  opening  the  door  of  his  house  burst  into  tears. 
His  wife,  amazed,  inquired  what  was  the  matter  with  him. 
He  told  her  what  he  had  seen,  and  added,  "  If  there  is  any 
one  on  this  earth  whom  the  Lord  will  listen  to,  it  is  George 
Washington,  and  I  feel  a  presentiment  that  under  such  a 
commander,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  our  eventually  estab- 
lishing our  independence,  and  that  God  in  his  providence 
has  willed  it  so." 

No  wonder  peace  sat  enthroned  on  that  brow  when  despair 
clouded  all  others. 

In  February  his  wife  joined  him,  and  as  the  two  walked 
through  the  wretched  camp,  even  the  half-starved  and  muti- 
nous soldier  raised  his  head  to  bless  them,  and  from  many  a 
pallid  lip  fell  the  "  long  live  Washington,"  as  his  tall  form 
darkened  the  door  of  the  hovel.  She  was  worthy  of  him, 
and  cheerfully  shared  his  discomforts  and  anxieties.  Hav- 
ing at  length  got  a  little  addition,  built  of  logs,  attached  to 
their  quarters,  as  a  dining-room,  she  writes  that  their  strait- 
ened quarters  were  much  more  tolerable. 

But  the  sick,  powerless,  and  famished  army  that  lay 
around  him  did  not  wholly  occupy  Washington's  attention. 
He  wrote  to  the  various  officers  to  the  east  and  north,  took 
measures  to  have  West  Point  fortified,  and  pressed  on  Con- 
gress the  necessity  of  a  complete  change  in  the  organization 
and  discipline  of  the  army,  and  the  mode  of  obtaining  sup- 
plies. This  body  at  length  yielded  to  his  solicitations,  and 
a  committee  of  five  was  appointed  to  wait  on  him  at  Valley 
Forge,  to  decide  on  some  feasible  plan.  Washington  laid 
before  them  a  project,  which,  after  receiving  the  various 
opinions  of  the  officers,  he  had,  with  great  labor  and  care, 
drawn  up.  The  committee  remained  three  months  in  camp, 
and  then  returned  to  Congress  with  a  report,  which,  with  a 
very  few  amendments  was  adopted.  On  one  point  he  and 
Congress  differed  widely.  Hitherto,  the  officers  received 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  309 

pay  only  while  in  the  service,  and  no  provision  was  made 
for  them  in  the  future.  Washingt6n  wished  to  have  the 
half-pay  system  for  life  adopted,  and  finding  Congress  averse 
to  it,  he  wrote  a  strong  and  urgent  request,  in  which  he 
declared  that  he  "  most  religiously  believed  the  salvation  of 
the  cause  depended  upon  it,  and  without  it,  the  officers  would 
moulder  to  nothing,  or  be  composed  of  low  and  illiterate 
men,  void  of  capacity,  and  unfit  for  their  business."  He  said 
he  had  no  interest  in  the  decision,  personally,  as  he  had 
fully  resolved  never  to  receive  the  smallest  benefit  from  the 
half-pay  establishment ;  but  he  added,  "  As  a  man  who  fights 
under  the  weight  of  proscription,  and  as  a  citizen  who  wishes  to 
see  the  liberty  of  his  country  established  on  a  permanent  basis, 
and  whose  property  depends  on  the  success  of  our  arms,  I  am 
deeply  interested."  Still  Congress  hesitated,  doubtful  whether 
this  matter  did  not  belong  to  the  separate  States.  Some 
saw  in  it  the  basis  of  a  standing  army ;  others  the  elements 
of  a  privileged  class ;  indeed,  saw  every  thing  but  the  simple 
truth,  that  officers  will  not  sacrifice  all  their  interests,  and 
run  the  hazards  of  war  for  a  country  which  will  not  even 
promise  after  her  independence  is  secured  to  provide  for 
their  support.  Deeply  impressed  with  the  necessity  and 
importance  of  this  measure,  Washington  wrote  again  to  a 
member  of  Congress,  declaring  "  that  if  it  was  not  adopted 
he  believed  the  army  would  disband,  and  even  if  it  should 
not,  it  would  be  without  discipline,  without  energy,  incapable 
of  acting  with  vigor,  and  destitute  of  those  cements  neces- 
sary to  promise  success  on  the  one  hand,  or  to  withstand 
the  shocks  of  adversity  on  the  other."  He  said,  "  Men  may 
speculate  as  much  as  they  will ;  they  may  talk  of  patriotism, 
they  may  draw  a  few  examples,  from  ancient  story,  of  great 
achievements  performed  by  its  influence,  but  whoever  builds 
upon  them  as  a  sufficient  basis  for  conducting  a  long  and 

bloody  war,  will  find  himself  deceived  in  the  end 

I  do  not  mean  to  Delude  altogether  the  idea  of  patriotism. 


310  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

I  know  it  exists,  and  I  know  it  has  done  much  in  the  pre- 
sent contest.  But  I  will  venture  to  assert  that  a  great  and 
lasting  war  can  never  be  supported  on  this  principle  alone." 
He  might  have  added  that  officers  and  men  felt  that  if  they 
owed  the  State  obedience,  the  State  in  turn  owed  them  pro- 
tection ;  or  that  if  they  risked  life  and  fortune  in  the  defense 
of  their  country,  she,  when  delivered,  owed  them  some  pro- 
vision against  want.  It  is  hard  to  fight  for  a  country  that 
degrades  our  efforts  to  the  mere  duties  of  a  hireling. 
Patriotism,  like  love  for  a  fellow  being,  must  have  regard 
in  return  or  it  will  soon  die  out.  Urged  by  Washington's 
appeals,  Congress  at  length  passed  the  half- jS^  bill,  but 
shortly  after  reconsidered  it,  and  finally  compromised  the 
matter  by  allowing  the  officers  half-pay  for  seven  years,  and 
granting  a  gratuity  of  eighty  dollars  to  each  non-commis- 
sioned officer  and  soldier  who  should  serve  to  the  end  of  the 
war.  Thus,  while  struggling  with  the  difficulties  that  beset 
him  in  camp,  he  was  compelled  to  plead  with  a  suspicious, 
feeble  Congress,  and  submit  to  its  implied  imputations.  The 
course  it  was  taking  he  saw  clearly  would  lead  to  mischief. 
Its  openly  avowed  suspicions  of  the  army,  he  declared,  was 
just  the  way  to  make  it  dangerous.  "  The  most  certain 
way  (said  he)  to  make  a  man  your  enemy,  is  to  tell  him 
you  esteem  him  such."  Besides,  the  conduct  of  the  army 
did  not  warrant  this  jealousy.  From  first  to  last,  it  had 
shown  an  example  of  obedience  to  the  civil  authorities, 
worthy  of  the  highest  commendation,  not  of  distrust. 
Washington  boldly  asserted  that  history  could  not  furnish 
another  instance  of  an  army  "  suffering  such  uncommon 
hardships,  and  bearing  them  with  the  same  patience  and 
fortitude.  To  see  men  (said  he)  without  clothes  to  cover 
their  nakedness,  without  blankets  to  lie  on,  without  shoes, 
for  the  want  of  which  their  marches  might  be  traced  by  the 
blood  from  their  feet — and  almost  as  often  without  provi- 
sions as  with  them,  marching  through  the  frost  and  snow, 


1 '"Uiitrymen  joining  tlir  Army  under  Gates: 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  313 

and  at  Christmas  taking  up  their  winter-quarters  within  a 
day's  march  of^the  enemy,  without  a  house  or  hut  to  cover 
them  till  they  could  be  built,  and  submitting  without  a 
murmur,  is  a  proof  of  patience  and  obedience  which,  in  my 
opinion,  can  scarce  be  paralleled."  No,  it  could  not  be 
paralleled,  and  yet  the  greater  the  devotion  and  sufferings 
of  the  army,  the  more  neglectful,  suspicious  and  hostile 
Congress  became.  Its  noble  conduct  demanded  gratitude 
and  confidence,  but  received  instead  distrust  and  injury. 
Thus,  while  exerting  all  his  powers  to  protect  and  keep  to- 
gether the  army,  he  had  to  devise  and  propose  every  im- 
portant military  measure,  and  then,  at  last,  see  many  of  his 
plans  fail  through  party  spirit,  and  others  so  altered  as  to 
lose  half  their  value.  It  was  under  these  accumulations  of 
evils  the  Conway  cabal  came  to  a  head,  and  Washington  saw 
his  own  officers  conspiring  together  to  effect  his  overthrow. 
This  was  the  darkest  hour  of  his  life,  for  not  only  misfor- 
tunes, but  things  far  more  wounding  to  him  than  any 
misfortune,  were  crowding  him  to  the  furthest  limit  of 
endurance. 

Thus  passed  the  long,  severe  and  gloomy  winter,  but 
spring  at  last  with  its  balmy  breath  arrived,  and  was  hailed 
with  delight  by  the  suffering  troops.  Unjust  and  incon- 
sistent as  it  may  seem,  there  were  many  in  Congress  and 
out  of  it  who  blamed  Washington  for  not  carrying  on  a 
winter  campaign.  Of  these  members  of  Congress  he  spoke 
in  bitter  sarcasm,  declaring  that  they  at  first  denied  the 
soldiers  clothes,  and  then  wanted  them  to  keep  the  field  in 
winter.  "  I  can  assure  these  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  that 
it  is  a  much  easier  and  less  distressing  thing  to  draw  remon- 
strances in  a  comfortable  room,  by  a  good  fire-side,  than  to 
occupy  a  cold,  bleak  hill,  and  sleep  under  frost  and  snow, 
without  clothes  or  blankets.  However,  although  they  seem 
to  have  little  feeling  for  the  naked,  distressed  soldiers,  I  feel 
superabundantly  for  them,  and  from  my  soul  I  pity  those 

17 


314  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

miseries  which  it  is  neither  in  my  power  to  relieve  nor  pre- 
vent." His  indignation  and  scorn  are  moved  at  the  inhu- 
manity of  such  complaints,  but  they  both  yield  to  pity  as 
he  contemplates  the  condition  of  his  soldiers.  But  not- 
withstanding the  conspiracies  surrounding  him,  the  disaffec- 
tion of  some  of  his  best  officers,  and  the  conduct  of  Congress, 
and  the  state  of  his  troops,  he  did  not  waver  a  moment  in 
his  course.  And  when,  in  the  middle  of  April,  he  received 
a  draft  of  Lord  North's  conciliatory  bills,  as  they  were 
called,  containing  a  new  project  for  settling  the  difficulties 
between  the  two  countries,  all  his  solicitude  was  aroused  at 
once,  lest  the  favorable  terms  offered  might  be  accepted,  or 
at  least  urged  by  men  tired  of  the  war,  and  despairing  of 
success.  He  immediately  wrote  to  a  member  of  Congress, 
saying,  "  Nothing  short  of  Independence,  it  appears  to  me, 
can  possibly  do.  A  peace  on  any  other  terms  would  be,  if 
I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  a  peace  of  war."  He  ex- 
pressed his  views  in  full,  in  which,  fortunately,  Congress 
coincided,  and  the  three  commissioners  sent  over  by  the 
British  government,  Lord  Carlisle,  Governor  Johnstone  and 
William  Eden,  after  vainly  striving  for  three  months  to 
make  arrangements  with  Congress,  returned.  Previous  to 
their  departure,  however,  they  attempted  to  send  circulars 
to  each  of  the  States,  showing  the  terms  of  reconciliation 
which  had  been  rejected,  and  threatening  those  who  con- 
tinued their  rebellious  attitudes  with  the  vengeance  of  the 
king. 

Another  event  soon  after  occurred,  which  shed  sudden 
sunshine  on  the  gloomy  encampment  of  Valley  Forge,  and 
made  its  rude  hovels  ring  with  acclamations  of  joy.  The 
overthrow  of  Burgoyne  had  fixed  the  wavering  attitude  of 
France,  and  on  the  Gth  of  February  a  treaty  of  defensive 
alliance,  as  well  as  of  amity  and  commerce,  was  signed  on 
her  part,  by  Geraud,  and  on  ours  by  the  American  commis- 
sioners, Franklin.  Duane,  and  Lee.  The  bearer  of  these 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  315 

glad  tidings  arrived  the  last  of  April,  and  bonfires,  illumi- 
nations, the  firing  of  cannon  and  ringing  of  bells  announced 
the  joy  with  which  it  was  received  by  the  people.  The 
army  was  wild  with  excitement,  and  the  bright  May  morn- 
ing that  dawned  over  the  huts  at  Valley  Forge  did  not  more 
certainly  promise  a  coming  summer  than  did  this  alliance 
with  one  of  the  strongest  powers  on  the  globe  assure  our 
success.  Washington  set  apart  the  Tth  of  May  to  celebrate 
this  important  event  in  form.  At  nine  in  the  morning, 
the  troops  were  all  assembled  to  hear  divine  service  and 
offer  up  their  thanksgiving.  A  signal-gun,  fired  at  half- 
past  ten,  summoned  the  men  to  the  field.  At  half-past 
eleven,  another  signal-gun  was  fired,  and  the  columns 
began  their  march.  At  a  third  signal,  a  running  fire  of 
musketry  went  down  the  first  line  and  back  the  second.  A 
moment's  silence  followed,  when  at  a  given  signal  a  loud 
shout  went  up,  and  "  Long  live  the  King  of  France,"  rolled 
like  thunder  over  the  field.  Before  the  echo  had  died  away, 
the  artillery  broke  in,  shaking  the  earth  with  its  deep  rever- 
berations, and  sending  its  sullen  roar  of  joy  far  over  the 
spring-clad  hills  and  valleys.  After  thirteen  rounds,  it 
ceased,  and  the  loud  rattle  of  musketry  succeeded,  and  then 
the  deepening  shout  of  "  Long  live  the  friendly  European 
powers,"  again  arose  from  the  whole  army.  As  a  finale, 
thirteen  cannon  were  fired,  followed  by  a  discharge  of  mus- 
ketry and  a  loud  huzza  to  "  The  American  States"  All  the 
officers  of  the  army  then  assembled  to  partake  of  a  collation 
provided  by  Washington,  and  for  once,  plenty  reigned  in 
the  camp.  When  he  took  his  leave,  the  officers  arose  and 
began  to  huzza  and  shout  "  Long  live  Washington."  They 
kept  it  up  tilt  he  and  his  suite  had  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
The  latter,  his  heart  swelling  with  joy  and  gratitude  at  the 
bright  prospect  so  suddenly  opened  before  his  country,  and 
his  face  lit  up  at  the  enthusiasm  manifested  on  every  side, 
would  often  turn,  and  swinging  his  hat  above  his  head,  echo 


316  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

back  the  wild  huzza.  The  uproar  would  then  be  redoubled 
— hats  flew  into  the  air,  and  "  Washington,  long  live  Wash- 
ington," was  echoed  and  re-echoed  over  the  field,  and  taken 
up  by  the  army  till  the  whole  atmosphere  seemed  an  element 
of  joy. 

The  troops  at  this  time  presented  a  very  different  appear- 
ance than  when  they  went  into  winter-quarters.  Better 
clad,  they  had  with  the  opening  of  spring  been  subject  to 
constant  and  severe  discipline,  by  Baron  Steuben,  who  had 
joined  the  army  during  the  winter.  This  generous  stranger 
had  been  aid  to  Frederic  the  Great,  and  was  afterward 
made  grand-marshal  of  the  court  of  Prince  Hohenzollern- 
Hechingen.  The  King  of  Sardinia,  anxious  to  obtain  his 
services,  had  made  him  nattering  offers  to  enter  his  army, 
but  the  baron  was  well  settled,  with  ample  means,  and  re- 
fused to  accept  them.  In  1777,  he  passed  though  France, 
on  his  way  to  England,  to  visit  some  English  noblemen. 
Count  Germain,  the  French  minister  of  war,  was  an  old 
companion-in-arms  of  Steuben,  and  he  immediately  began 
to  press  the  latter  to  enter  the  American  service.  The 
wary  French  minister  knew  that  our  weakness  lay  in  our 
want  of  discipline,  and  ignorance  of  military  tactics,  and 
that  there  could  be  no  one  found  better  fitted  to  render  us 
aid  in  this  department  than  he.  For  a  long  time  Steuben 
steadily  refused,  but  the  indefatigable  Germain  finally  over- 
came all  his  scruples,  and  he  embarked  for  this  country, 
where  he  arrived  on  the  1st  of  December  [1777].  Con- 
gress received  him  with  distinction,  and  at  his  own  request, 
he  joined  the  army  at  Valley  Forge,  as  a  volunteer.  His 
astonishment  at  its  aspect  was  unbounded.  Such  a  famished, 
half-naked,  miserable  collection  of  human  beings  he  never 
before  saw  dignified  with  the  title  of  soldiers,  and  he  de- 
clared that  no  European  army  could  be  kept  together  a 
week  under  such  privations  and  sufferings.  His  amazement 
at  the  condition  of  the  army  gave  way  to  pity  and  respect 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  317 

for  men  who,  for  a  principle,  would  endure  so  much.  As 
soon  as  spring  opened  he  commenced,  as  inspector-general, 
to  which  office  he  had  been  appointed  by  Congress,  to  drill 
the  men.  Ignorance  of  our  language  crippled  him  sadly  at 
first,  but  undiscouraged,  he  threw  his  whole  soul  into  his 
work,  determined  that  such  noble  patriots  should  also  be- 
come good  soldiers.  Though  choleric  and  impetuous,  he 
was  generous  as  the  day,  and  possessed  a  heart  full  of  the 
tenderest  sympathy.  The  men,  notwithstanding  his  tem- 
pestuous moods,  soon  learned  to  love  him.  The  good  effects 
of  his  instructions  were  quickly  apparent,  and  now,  when 
Washington  was  about  to  open  the  summer  campaign,  he 
saw  with  pride  an  army  before  him  that  could  be  wielded, 
and  that  had  confidence  in  its  own  skill.  Still  it  was  small, 
and  recruits  came  in  slowly.  The  committee  sent  by  Con- 
gress to  Valley  Forge,  to  confer  with  Washington,  agreed 
that  the  whole  force  in  the  field  should  be  forty  thousand 
men,  exclusive  of  artillery  and  cavalry ;  but  when,  the  next 
day  after  the  grand  celebration  of  the  alliance  with  France, 
a  council  of  war  was  called,  it  appeared  that  there  were,  in- 
cluding the  detachments  in  the  Highlands,  only  fifteen 
thousand  troops,  and  no  prospect  of  increasing  the  total 
number  to  more  than  twenty  thousand.  At  Valley  Forge 
were  eleven  thousand  eight  hundred,  while  nineteen  thousand 
five  hundred  British  occupied  Philadelphia,  and  ten  thousand 
four  hundred  more  New  York,  not  to  mention  between  three 
and  four  thousand  in  Rhode  Island.  Over  thirty- three  thou- 
sand British  soldiers  were  on  American  soil ;  a  force  which 
Congress  had  nothing  adequate  to  oppose.  In  this  council 
it  was  resolved  almost  unanimously  that  it  would  be  unwise, 
under  the  circumstances,  to  commence  offensive  operations. 
The  army,  therefore,  remained  quiet.  Meanwhile,  Howe 
began  to  make  preparations  for  evacuating  Philadelphia. 


318  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Lafayette  at  Barren  Hill — The  Oath  of  Allegiance  taken  by  the  Officers — Strange 
Conduct  of  Lee — Evacuation  of  Philadelphia — Determination  of  Washington- 
Battle  of  Monmouth  and  Conduct  of  Lee — Arrival  of  the  French  Fleet — Attack 
on  New  York  planned — Failure  of  the  Attempt  against  Newport,  and  Displea- 
sure of  the  French  Commander — Massacre  of  Baylor's  Dragoons  and  American 
Troops  at  Egg  Harbor — Destitute  Condition  of  the  Army,  and  Opinions  of  Wash- 
ington as  to  the  Result  of  it — The  Army  in  Winter-quarters — Miserable  Condi- 
tion of  Congress — Sickness  of  Lafayette — Washington  Consults  with  Congress 
on  the  Plan  of  the  Summer  Campaign — Resolves  to  act  solely  against  the  Indians 
— Sullivan's  Expedition — Taking  of  Stony  and  Yerplanck's  Points — Governor 
Try  on 's  Foray — Successful  Attack  of  Wayne  on  Stony  Point — Wretched  state 
of  the  Currency — Washington's  Indignation  against  Speculators — Count  Vergen- 
nes'  Views  of  Washington — Suffering  of  the  Troops  in  Winter-quarters  at  Mor- 
ristown — The  Life  Guard — Death  of  the  Spanish  Agent — Washington  partakes 
of  the  Communion  in  a  Presbyterian  Church — National  Bankruptcy  threatened 
— Arrival  of  Lafayette  with  the  News  of  a  large  French  Force  having  Sailed — 
Noble  Conduct  of  the  Ladies  of  Philadelphia,  and  of  Robert  Morris,  in  Supply- 
ing the  Soldiers  with  Clothing. 

THERE  was  much  truth  in  the  reply  of  Dr.  Franklin,  when 
told  in  London  that  Howe  had  taken  Philadelphia,  "  Say, 
rather,  that  Philadelphia  has  taken  General  Howe."  He 
had  lost  more  than  three  thousand  men  in  the  attempt  to 
reach  the  city,  and  having  accomplished  nothing  toward  the 
real  conquest  of  the  country,  was  now  about  to  march  back 
again.  He  had,  in  fact,  been  to  this  amazing  expense,  loss 
of  soldiers,  and  labor,  to  get  into  quarters  which  he  could 
have  obtained  quite  as  well  in  New  York. 

In  the  meantime,  Washington,  in  order  to  restrain  the 
depredations  of  the  British  foraging  parties,  which  were  of 
almost  daily  occurrence,  and  to  watch  more  narrowly  the 
movements  of  Howe,  sent  forward  Lafayette,  with  about 
two  thousand  men,  who  took  post  on  Barren  Hill,  nine  or 
ten  miles  from  Valley  Forge.  This  hill  was  across  the 
Schuylkill,  and  furnished  an  advantageous  position.  A  Tory 
Quaker,  however,  at  wlio.se  hou.se  Lafayette  had  at  first  taken 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  319 

up  his  head-quarters,  informed  Howe  of  the  state  of  affairs, 
who  immediately  sent  out  five  thousand  troops  to  seize  him. 
The  plan  was  to  pass  along  the  banks  of  the  Schuylkill, 
between  Lafayette  and  the  river,  and  while  two  detachments 
held  the  only  two  fords  he  could  cross  in  his  retreat  to  camp, 
a  third,  constituting  the  main  body,  should  advance  to  the 
attack.  This  plan  was  well  laid,  and  promised  complete 
success.  Lafayette  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  nearly  sur- 
rounded before  he  was  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  enemy. 
Only  one  ford  lay  open  to  him,  and  the  column  advancing 
to  occupy  it  was  nearer  to  it  than  he.  Yet  it  was  his  last 
desperate  resource.  The  road  he  took  ran  behind  a  forest, 
and  was  invisible  to  the  enemy.  Along  this  he  hurried  his 
troops,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  sent  across  the  interval 
between  him  and  the  enemy  heads  of  columns,  which, 
showing  themselves  through  the  woods,  deceived  Grant,  the 
British  commander,  and  he  ordered  a  halt  and  prepared  for 
an  attack.  This  produced  a  delay  which  enabled  Lafayette 
to  reach  the  ford  first,  and  cross  it  in  safety,  while  his  baf- 
fled pursuers  returned,  chagrined  and  mortified,  to  Phila- 
delphia. Washington,  who  had  been  informed  in  some  way 
of  this  movement,  hurried  forward,  but  as  he  rose  a  hill,  he 
saw  that  he  was  too  late.  The  woods  and  shores  between 
him  and  Lafayette  seemed  alive  with  the  red-coats,  and  the 
long  line  of  gleaming  bayonets  that  almost  surrounded  the 
American  detachment,  left  scarcely  a  hope  for  its  deliver- 
ance. Washington  was  exceedingly  agitated.  It  was  La- 
fayette's first  essay  at  a  separate  command,  and  he  would 
feel  the  failure  of  his  favorite  boy-general  more  than  of  his 
own.  Besides,  he  could  ill  afford  to  lose  two  thousand  men 
in  his  present  condition.  He  watched  every  movement 
with  his  glass,  and,  at  last,  to  his  inexpressible  joy  and 
astonishment,  saw  Lafayette  lead  his  swiftly-marching 
columns  up  to  the  ford  and  across  it,  in  safety.  The  in- 
tensest  excitement  prevailed  in  camp.  The  danger,  indeed 


320  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  almost  certain  overthrow,  of  Lafayette  had  been  com- 
municated to  the  army,  and  Washington  had  ordered  it  to 
stand  to  arms,  and  when  the  former  again  entered  Valley 
Forge  in  safety,  those  occupying  it  made  it  shake  with  their 
exultant  shouts. 

A  short  time  before  the  breaking  up  of  the  camp  at  Valley 
Forge,  Washington,  by  the  direction  of  Congress,  adminis- 
tered the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  officers  of  the  army. 
The  form  of  this  oath  was  printed  on  a  slip  of  paper,  with 
blanks  to  be  filled  with  the  name  and  rank  of  the  officer,  to 
which  he  affixed  his  signature.  Washington  administered 
it  to  the  chief  officers,  and  Stirling,  Greene  and  Knox  to  the 
others.  To  expedite  the  ceremony,  several  took  the  oath 
together.  As  Washington  was  reading  it  to  the  leading 
generals  at  the  same  same  time,  Lee,  who  had  been  ex- 
changed for  Prescot,  taken  at  Newport,  suddenly  withdrew 
his  hand ;  as  quickly  replacing  it,  he  again  withdrew  it. 
Washington  paused,  and  inquired  what  he  meant  by  his 
hesitation.  Lee  replied,  "  As  to  King  George,  I  am  ready 
enough  to  absolve  myself  from  all  allegiance  to  him,  but  I 
have  some  scruples  about  the  Prince  of  Wales."  A  roar  of 
laughter,  in  which  Washington  himself  could  not  help  join- 
ing, followed  this  extraordinary  exhibition  of  conscience. 

Howe,  having  completed  his  preparations  for  evacuating 
Philadelphia,  secretly  and  silently  stole  out  of  the  city  be- 
fore daylight,  on  the  18th  of  June,  and  commenced  his  inland 
march  for  New  York.  Washington,  anticipating  this  move- 
ment, had  dispatched  Maxwell's  brigade  to  New  Jersey,  to 
cooperate  with  General  Dickinson,  Commanding  the  militia 
of  the  state,  in  retarding  the  enemy.  The  news  at  length 
arriving  of  the  actual  departure  of  the  British,  he  imme- 
diately ordered  Arnold,  still  lame  from  the  wound  received 
at  Saratoga,  to  occupy  the  city  with  a  small  detachment, 
while  Wayne  and  Lee,  at  the  head  of  two  divisions,  were 
directed  to  push  rapidly  across  the  Delaware  and  seize  the 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  321 

first  strong  position  found  on  the  further  bank.  Washing- 
ton, with  the  remainder  of  the  troops,  followed,  and  in  six 
days  the  whole  army  encamped  at  Hopewell,  five  miles  from 
Princeton.  He  had  previously,  however,  sent  off  Morgan  to 
hang  with  his  six  hundred  riflemen  on  the  enemy's  right 
flank.  General  Scott,  with  fifteen  hundred  picked  men,  and 
Cadwallader,  in  command  of  the  Jersey  militia  and  Penn- 
sylvania volunteers,  were  afterward  added,  and  directed  to 
concentrate  rapidly  on  the  left  flank  and  rear. 

In  the  meantime  the  motley  host  composing  the  British 
army,  was  pressing  slowly  forward.  With  its  long  train  of 
baggage-wagons,  horses  and  artillery,  it  stretched  twelve 
miles  along  the  road.  The  apparently  interminable  line 
was  nearly  half  the  day  in  passing  a  given  point,  and  pre- 
sented a  singular  spectacle,  with  its  mixture  of  regulars  and 
loyalists,  the  whole  terminating  in  a  disorderly,  boisterous, 
immense  crowd  of  camp-followers. 

Washington  had  previously  called  a  council  of  war,  to 
determine  whether  it  was  best  to  hazard  a  general  engage- 
ment. The  decision  was  against  it,  which  embarrassed  him 
much,  for  it  was  clearly  his  wish  to  bring  on  a  decisive 
battle.  In  this  he  was  seconded  strongly  by  Greene,  La- 
fayette, Steuben,  Wayne,  Duportail,  and  Patterson.  There 
is  but  little  doubt  that  from  the  first  he  had  determined  to 
attack  Lord  Howe,  for  after  this  council  he  asked  no  one's 
advice,  but  proceeded  on  his  own  responsibility  to  take  such 
measures  as  would  make  an  engagement  inevitable.  Wayne 
was  directed  to  join  the  divisions  already  pressing  the 
enemy,  while  all  the  advance  parties,  numbering  nearly  four 
thousand  men,  were  put  under  Lafayette,  and  ordered  to 
gain  the  left  flank.  Howe  had  designed  to  march  directly 
to  Brunswick,  and  there  embark  for  New  York,  but  finding 
Washington  in  front,  and  not  wishing,  encumbered  as  he 
was,  to  give  battle,  he  turned  off  at  Allentown,  and  took 
the  road  leading  to  Monmouth  Court-House  and  Sandy 


322  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Hook.  At  the  latter  place  he  expected  to  get  his  troops 
and  baggage  aboard  of  the  ships.  But  finding,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  court-house,  that  the  American  army  was 
steadily  closing  on  him,  he  ordered  the  whole  baggage-train 
to  move  to  the  front,  and  selecting  a  strong  position,  flanked 
by  woods  and  swamps,  halted.  Knowing  that  the  gallant 
young  Lafayette,  in  executing  the  orders  given  him,  would 
inevitably  bring  on  a  battle,  Washington  took  measures  to 
sustain  him  with  the  entire  army,  left  under  his  own  im- 
mediate command.  At  this  juncture  Lee,  whose  rank  enti- 
tled him  to  the  command  of  the  advance,  but  who  had 
yielded  it  to  Lafayette  in  disgust,  because  Washington  paid 
no  attention  to  his  advice,  now  asked  to  be  reinstated.  Em- 
barrassed by  this  inconsistent  conduct,  Washington,  how- 
ever, concluded  to  send  him  forward  with  two  additional 
brigades  to  the  aid  of  Lafayette,  the  whole  to  be  under  his 
own  command,  but  with  orders  not  to  interfere  with  any 
plans  which  the  latter  had  already  set  on  foot.  He,  at  the 
same  time,  wrote  to  Lafayette,  explaining  the  unpleasant 
position  into  which  this  eccentric  conduct  of  Lee  had  thrown 
him,  and  expressed  the  confidence  that  he  would  waive  his 
right,  and  thus  relieve  him  from  it.  It  was  well  that  the 
American  commander  had  such  a  noble,  self-sacrificing  heart 
to  appeal  to,  or  there  would  have  been  a  serious  quarrel  here 
on  the  very  eve  of  an  engagement.  The  next  morning,  at 
five  o'clock,  Washington,  some  six  miles  distant,  was  aroused 
by  the  news  that  the  British  army  had  recommenced  its 
march.  He  immediately  dispatched  an  aid  to  Lee  with  the 
orders  to  attack  the  enemy,  "  unless  there  should  be  very  pow- 
erful reasons  to  the  contrary  "  With  any  other  commander 
but  Lee,  this  would  have  brought  on  an  immediate  battle. 
Washington  expected  this  to  be  the  result,  and  immediately 
ordered  the  troops  to  inarch  to  his  support.  The  28th  of 
June  was  one  of  the  hottest,  sultriest  days  of  the  year.  It 
was  al.-o  the  Sabbath  day.  but  the  fierce  mustering  was  not 

•/    '  O 


Washington  urging  the  countryman  to  greater  speed. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  325 

to  the  sanctuary,  nor  the  sounds  that  broke  over  the  fields 
the  sweet  call  of  the  church-bell  to  quiet  worshipers. 

At  early  dawn  Lee,  in  carrying  out  his  orders,  began  to 
close  on  the  enemy.  Soon  after,  word  was  brought  him  that 
the  whole  British  army  was  preparing  to  attack  his  division. 
Spurring  with  his  staff  along  a  causeway  across  a  swamp,  he 
galloped  up  a  height  beyond,  on  which  Dickinson  had  drawn 
up  his  troops,  and  surveyed  the  field  before  him.  He  could 
not  ascertain,  from  the  conflicting  reports,  whether  the 
rumor  was  true  or  false.  In  the  meantime,  Lafayette,  ob- 
serving a  false  movement  of  a  portion  of  the  British  army, 
hastened  to  Lee  and  asked  if  a  successful  attack  could  not 
be  made  there  at  once.  "  Sir,"  replied  the  latter,  "  you  do 
not  know  British  soldiers.  We  cannot  stand  against  them. 
We  shall  certainly  be  driven  back  at  first,  and  must  be  cau- 
tious." The  fiery  Frenchman  did  not  hold  British  valor  in 
such  high  estimation,  and  replied  that  they  had  been  beaten, 
and  presumed  could  be  beaten  again.  At  all  events  he 
would  like  to  make  the  trial.  It  was  now  perfectly  evident 
to  him  that  Lee  did  not  intend  to  carry  out  Washington's 
orders,  and  seeing  at  that  moment  an  aid  from  the  latter 
gallop  up,  to  obtain  information,  he  told  him  aside,  to  say 
to  the  general  that  his  immediate  presence  on  the  spot  was  of 
the  utmost  importance.  In  the  meantime,  Scott  and  Maxwell 
were  moving  forward  in  beautiful  order  toward  the  right 
of  the  enemy.  Lafayette  had  wheeled  his  column,  and  was 
pressing  steadily  toward  the  left,  while  Wayne  was  descend- 
ing like  a  torrent  from  the  heights.  Lee  was  apparently  about 
to  second  this  movement,  when  he  saw  the  whole  British 
army  wheel  about  and  march  back  on  the  Middletown  road, 
as  if  to  fall  on  him  in  one  overwhelming  attack.  The  whole 
sandy  plain,  which,  like  that  of  Marengo,  seemed  made  on 
purpose  for  a  battle-field,  was  filled  with  marching  columns, 
and  echoed  to  the  sound  of  stirring  music  and  shouts  of 
men.  In  the  distance  streamed  the  long  line  of  baggage- 


326  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

wagons,  while  nearer  by,  the  glittering  columns  fell  one 
after  another  into  the  order  of  battle,  the  rattling  cavalry 
hurried  forward  with  the  blast  of  trumpets,  and  to  Lee's 
distempered  vision,  he  was  about  to  be  overwhelmed,  while 
a  deep  morass  in  his  rear  cut  off  all  retreat.  He,  therefore, 
immediately  dispatched  his  aids  to  the  different  corps,  with 
orders  to  fall  back  over  the  causeway,  to  the  heights  of 
Freehold  beyond.  Lafayette,  stung  with  rage,  slowly  and 
reluctantly  obeyed,  while  Wayne,  astounded  at  the  sudden 
order,  could  with  difficulty  extricate  himself  from  the  posi- 
tion in  which  this  unexpected  movement  left  him.  The 
whole  army  at  length  repassed  the  morass,  but  Lee  neglected 
to  occupy  the  advantageous  heights  of  Freehold,  and  con- 
tinued to  retreat,  followed  by  the  shouting,  taunting  enemy. 
He  did  not  even  announce  his  retreat  to  Washington,  and 
thus  prepare  him  for  an  event  so  disastrous  as  the  collision 
of  one-half  of  the  army  in  disorderly  flight  with  the  other 
half,  must  inevitably  prove.  Early  in  the  morning,  when 
about  commencing  the  attack,  he  had  dispatched  a  message 
to  the  commander-in-chief,  briefly  explaining  his  plans,  and 
promising  success.  On  the  reception  of  this,  Washington 
ordered  Greene  to  inarch  to  the  right  of  Lee,  and  support 
his  flank,  while  he  himself  pressed  on  directly  in  rear. 
Although  it  was  early  in  the  morning,  the  heat  was  intense. 
Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  the  still  foliage,  and  the  round, 
fiery  orb  of  day  seemed  to  roll  up  a  brazen  sky.  Washing- 
ton, foreseeing  how  severely  the  troops  would  suffer  from 
the  heat,  ordered  them  to  throw  away  their  knapsacks  and 
blankets.  Many  went  still  further,  and  stripped  off  their 
coats  also,  and  marched  in  their  shirt-sleeves.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible day,  the  thermometer  stood  at  ninety-six  in  the  shade, 
while  the  deep  sand  through  which  the  panting  soldiers 
struggled,  gave  still  greater  intensity  to  the  heat,  and  hence 
increased  immensely  the  pangs  of  thirst.  But  the  scattered 
firing  in  front  had  !>cen  heard,  and  the  army  pressed  for- 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  327 

ward  with  shouts.  Washington,  ignorant  of  Lee's  retreat, 
had  dismounted  where  two  roads  met,  and  stood  watching 
his  marching  columns,  when  a  countryman  dashed  into  his 
presence  and  announced  that  Lee  was  in  full  and  disorderly 
retreat.  His  countenance  instantly  grew  dark  as  wrath,  and 
with  a  burst  of  indignation  he  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and 
burying  the  rowels  in  his  steed,  parted  from  the  spot  like  a 
bolt  from  heaven.  A  cloud  of  dust  alone  told  the  course  of 
the  fiery  and  indignant  chieftain.  Meeting  the  head  of  the 
first  retreating  column,  he  flung  a  hasty  inquiry  to  Osgood, 
the  commander,  as  to  the  cause  of  this  retreat,  who  replied 
with  an  oath,  "  Sir,  we  are  fleeing  from  a  shadow"  and  then 
dashed  on  to  the  rear,  and  reined  up  with  a  sudden  jerk 
beside  Lee.  Leaning  over  his  saddle-bow,  his  face  fairly 
blazing  with  concentrated  passion,  he  demanded,  in  a  voice 
of  thunder,  the  meaning  of  this  disorderly  retreat.  Stung 
by  the  overwhelming  rebuke,  Lee  retorted  angrily.*  But 
it  was  no  time  to  settle  differences,  and  wheeling  his  horse, 
Washington  spurred  up  to  Oswald's  and  Stewart's  regiments, 
and  exclaimed — "  On  you  I  depend  to  check  this  pursuit." 
He  then  galloped  along  the  ranks,  and  roused  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  soldiers  to  the  highest  pitch,  till  the  glorious 
shout  of  "  Long  live  Washington"  rose  over  the  din  of  battle 
and  drowned  <he  loud  huzzas  of  the  enemy.  Never,  even 
while  heading  a  charge,  did  Washington's  personal  appear- 
ance and  conduct  inspire  his  troops  with  such  wild  enthu- 
siasm. Under  the  sudden  excitement  into  which  he  had 
been  thrown,  and  the  extreme  heat  combined,  that  colorless 
face  which  so  rarely  gave  any  indication  of  the  fires  within, 
was  now  suffused,  and  two  bright  red  spots  burned  on  either 
cheek,  while  his  blue  eyes  fairly  gleamed,  and  seemed  to 

*  Mr.  Sparks  informed  me  that  he  once  asked  Lafayette,  at  Lagrange,  what  the 
language  of  Washington  to  Lee  really  was.  Lafayette  replied,  that  although  stand- 
ing near  to  both  at  the  time,  he  could  not  tell.  Tt  was  not  the  words  but  the  man- 
ner that  struck  so  deeply.  No  one  had  ever  seen  Washington  so  terribly  excited — 
his  countenance  was  frijrhtfnl. 


328  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

emit  fire.  His  reeking  horse  was  flecked  with  foam  as  he 
dashed  hither  and  thither,  and  wherever  his  voice  reached, 
men  stood  still.  The  troops  gazed  on  him  with  astonish- 
ment, and  even  Lafayette  forgot  for  an  instant  the  peril  of 
the  army,  in  admiration  of  his  appearance,  declaring  after- 
ward that  he  thought  him  at  that  moment  the  handsomest 
man  he  had  ever  beheld.  In  a  few  minutes  the  whole  ap- 
pearance of  the  field  was  changed — the  disorderly  flying 
mass  halted — order  sprung  out  of  confusion,  and  right 
under  the  galling  fire  of  the  enemy's  guns,  the  ranks 
wheeled  and  formed  in  perfect  order.  Having  thus  estab- 
lished a  firm  front  to  the  enemy,  Washington  rode  back 
to  Lee,  and  exclaimed — "  Will  you,  sir,  command  in  that 
place  ?"  "  Yes,"  replied  the  latter.  "  Well,  then,  I  ex- 
pect you  to  check  the  enemy  immediately."  "  Your  orders 
shall  be  obeyed,"  retorted  the  enraged  commander;  " and 
I  will  not  be  the  first  to  leave  the  field."  The  conflict  then 
became  close  and  severe,  and  Washington,  trusting  to 
the  steadiness  of  the  troops,  hurried  back  to  bring  up  his  own 
division. 

Lee  had  now  the  main  army  on  his  hands,  which  pressed 
against  him  with  resistless  power.  The  artillery  played  on 
his  exposed  ranks,  while  to  the  sound  of  bugles  the  English 
light-horse  charged  furiously  on  his  left.  Young  Hamilton 
watched  with  a  beating  heart  the  bursting  storm,  and  fear- 
ing that  Lee  would  again  retreat,  crossed  the  field  on  a 
furious  gallop,  and  with  his  hat  off,  his  hair  streaming  in 
the  wind,  pressed  straight  for  the  spot  where  he  stood,  and 
reining  up  beside  him,  exclaimed  in  that  noble  enthusiasm 
which  that  day  pervading  all  hearts  saved  the  army,  "  I  will 
stay  with  you,  my  dear  general,  and  die  with  you.  Let  us  all 
die  here  rather  than  retreat."  Grand  and  glorious  words, 
spoken  there  in  the  din  of  battle,  amid  the  whistling  balls, 
and  worthy  of  the  hero  who  uttered  them.  Lee  struggled 
nobly  against  the  overwhelming  numbers  that  pressed  on 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  329 

him,  but  was  at  length  forced  back.*  So  stubbornly,  how- 
ever, did  the  Americans  dispute  every  inch  of  ground,  that 
when  they  retired  from  the  woods  the  opposing  ranks  were 
intermingled.  Half  that  gallantry  two  hours  before  would 
have  given  a  glorious  victory.  As  it  was,  Lee  succeeded  in 
effecting  a  safe  retreat. 

At  this  critical  moment  Washington  arrived  with  the 
other  division,  which  came  up  on  almost  a  trot,  and  panting 
with  thirst  and  heat.  Hastily  ordering  up  Greene  on  the 
right,  and  Stirling  on  the  left,  he  himself  led  the  centre  full 
on  the  enemy.  Stirling  brought  up  Lieutenant  Carrington's 
artillery  on  a  full  gallop,  and  unlimbering  them  with  aston- 
ishing rapidity,  opened  a  terrible  fire  on  the  advancing 
columns.  Lee  rode  up  to  Washington,  saying  coldly,  "  Sir, 
here  are  my  troops ;  how  is  it  your  pleasure  I  should  dis- 
pose of  them  ?"  Between  the  exhausting  heat  and  their 
fierce  conflict,  they  were  completely  beaten  out,  and  Wash- 
ington ordered  them  to  the  rear  of  Englishtown,  while  he 
led  on  the  battle  with  the  fresh  troops.  The  victorious 
enemy,  pressing  eagerly  after  Lee,  came  suddenly  on  the 
second  line,  now  formed,  and,  flushed  with  success,  bore 
steadily  down  on  the  centre.  But  here  was  Washington, 
around  whom  the  troops  gathered  with  invincible  resolution 
and  dauntless  hearts,  while  Wayne,  from  a  hill  crowned  by 
an  orchard,  rained  a  tempest  of  balls  on  the  advancing 
columns.  Hurled  back  by  the  steady  volleys,  the  latter 
then  moved  almost  simultaneously  against  the  right  and 

*  It  was  during  this  part  of  the  battle  that  an  Irishman,  while  serving  his  gun, 
was  shot  down.  His  wife,  warned  Molly,  only  twenty-two  years  of  age,  employed 
herself,  while  he  loaded  and  fired  his  piece,  in  bringing  water  from  a  spring  near 
by.  While  returning  with  a  supply,  she  saw  him  fall,  and  heard  the  officer  in 
command  order  the  gun  to  be  taken  to  the  rear.  She  immediately  ran  forward, 
seized  the  rammer,  declaring  she  would  avenge  his  death.  She  fought  her  piece 
like  a  hero  to  the  last.  The  next  morning,  Greene,  who  had  been  struck  with  her 
bravery,  presented  her  to  Washington,  who  immediately  promoted  her  to  a  ser- 
geant, and  afterward  had  her  name  put  on  the  half-pay  list  for  life.  Previous  to 
this  she  fired  the  last  gun  when  the  Americans  were  driven  from  Fort  Montgomery. 


330  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

left  flanks  of  the  Americans,  but  were  immediately  scourged 
back  by  Knox's  heavy  guns  and  the  fierce  fire  of  Stirling's 
battery.  All  this  time  Wayne  kept  firing  with  such  deadly 
precision  on  the  British  centre  that  every  attempt  to  charge 
proved  abortive.  Again  and  again  the  royal  grenadiers 
moved  forward  in  splendid  order,  and  with  a  resolute  aspect, 
but  were  as  often  compelled  to  retire  from  the  close  range 
of  the  American  fire.  Col.  Monckton,  their  leader,  saw  at 
once  that  no  progress  could  be  made  till  Wayne  was  driven 
from  that  orchard,  and  riding  along  the  ranks  of  his  brave 
grenadiers,  aroused  their  courage  by  his  stirring  appeals. 
He  then  formed  them  in  a  solid  column,  and  shouted  "for- 
ward /"  Moving  swiftly  forward  at  the  charge  step,  but 
with  the  regularity  and  steadiness  of  a  single  wave,  they 
swept  up  the  slope.  Wayne,  the  moment  he  detected  the 
movement,  ordered  his  men  to  reserve  their  fire  till  the  column 
came  within  close  range,  and  then  aim  at  the  officers.  The 
grenadiers  kept  steadily  on  till  they  arrived  within  a  few 
rods  of  the  silent  Americans,  when  Monckton  waving  his 
sword  over  his  head  shouted,  "  CHARGE  !"  At  the  same 
moment  the  order  "  Fire"  ran  along  the  ranks  of  Wayne. 
A  deadly  volley  followed,  and  nearly  every  British  officer 
bit  the  dust,  and  among  them  the  gallant  Monckton.  A 
close,  fierce  struggle  ensued  over  his  dead  body,  but  the 
Americans  finally  bore  it  off  in  triumph.  Wayne  now  bore 
steadily  down  on  the  centre,  while  the  shouts  of  his  excited 
troops  were  heard  in  the  intervals  of  the  heavy  explosions 
of  artillerv  as  thev  bore  the  strong  battalions  fiercely  back. 

i/  »/  o  •/ 

Their  march  was  like  the  step  of  fate,  and  they  crowded  the 
astonished  enemy  to  the  head  of  the  causeway,  and  across 
it  into  the  woods  beyond. 

All  this  time  Morgan  with  his  brave  riflemen  lay  at  Rich- 
mond Mills,  only  three  miles  from  Monmouth  Court-House, 
waiting  for  orders.  This  iron-hearted  commander,  a  host 
in  himself  had  his  men  drawn  up  in  marching  order,  and  as 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  331 

the  heavy  and  constant  explosions  of  cannon  rolled  by,  fol- 
lowed by  the  sharp  rattle  of  musketry,  he  paced  backward 
and  forward  in  the  road,  a  prey  to  the  most  intense  excite- 
ment. His  eager  eye  sought  in  vain  to  catch  the  form  of  a 
swift  rider,  bearing  the  order  to  move  forward.  All  day 
long  he  chafed  like  an  imprisoned  lion,  yet,  strange  to  say, 
his  existence  seemed  to  have  been  forgotten  in  the  sudden 
excitement  and  danger  that  followed  Lee's  mad  retreat. 
Had  he  been  allowed  to  fall  with  his  fresh  troops  on  the 
British  rear,  he  would  have  broken  them  to  pieces. 

The  scorching  Sabbath  day  was  now  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  as  the  blood-red  sun  sunk  in  the  west,  the  whole  British 
army  retreated,  and  took  up  a  strong  position  on  the  spot 
occupied  by  Lee  in  the  morning.  Woods  and  swamps  were 
on  either  side,  while  the  only  causeway  over  which  troops 
could  approach  was  swept  by  heavy  batteries.  Washington 
rode  up  and  scrutinized  the  position  long  and  anxiously. 
His  strong  frame  had  been  tasked  to  the  utmost,  and  as  he 
sat  on  his  exhausted  steed  and  cast  his  eye  over  his  gallant 
army,  he  saw  that  heat  aiad  thirst  had  waged  a  more  terrible 
conflict  with  them  than  the  balls  of  the  enemy.  On  every 
side  arose  the  most  piteous  cries  for  water,  and  the  well 
were  hardly  able  to  carry  the  wounded  to  the  rear,  while 
scores  lay  dead  amid  the  sand,  untouched  by  the  foe.  The 
battle  seemed  over  for  the  night,  but  Washington,  stung  and 
mortified  at  the  unpardonable  errors  and  consequent  misfor- 
tunes of  the  day,  determined  to  rest  with,  nothing  short  of 
a  complete  victory.  He,  therefore,  brought  up  the  two 
brigades  of  Poor  and  Woodford,  and  ordered  them  to  force 
their  way  through  the  woods  to  the  right  and  left  flanks  of 
the  enemy,  while  he  hurried  the  heavy  cannon  of  Knox  to 
the  front.  In  a  few  minutes  the  heavy  batteries  on  both 
sides  opened.  But  the  two  brigades  found  so  many  ob- 
stacles obstructing  the  way,  and  delaying  their  progress, 

that  nidit  cnine  on  before  they  could  reach  their  posts.   The 

18 


332  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

attack  was  then  abandoned ;  the  bugles  sounded  the  recall 
of  the  advance  parties,  the  heavy  firing  ceased,  and  nothing 
but  the  moans  of  the  wounded  and  heavy  tread  of  the  bat- 
talions taking  up  their  position  for  the  night,  broke  the 
stillness  of  the  Sabbath  evening.  The  fainting  army  laid 
down  to  rest  on  the  heated  plain,  in  the  full  expectation  of 
another  battle  in  the  morning.  Washington  stretched  him- 
self in  his  mantle,  and  the  young  Lafayette,  feeling  deeply 
for  the  disappointment  under  which  he  knew  him  to  be  suf- 
fering, stole  quietly  to  his  side.  Washington  wrapped  him 
affectionately  in  his  mantle,  and  the  two  tired  heroes  slept 
together  under  the  open  sky. 

The  British  commander,  however,  had  no  intention  of 
risking  another  battle,  and  so,  at  midnight,  quietly  aroused 
his  slumbering  army,  and  hurried  away  from  the  spot  that 
had  so  nearly  witnessed  his  overthrow.  The  morning  drum 
roused  up  the  American  army  at  dawn,  but  no  answering 
sound  came  from  the  enemy's  camp.  The  moment  Wash- 
ington was  informed  that  they  had  fled,  he  sent  on  officers 
to  ascertain  what  distance  the  army  had  reached.  He  found, 
to  his  great  disappointment,  that  it  had  gained  a  march 
of  nearly  nine  miles,  and  with  its  long  train  of  baggage- 
wagons  and  artillery,  was  streaming  swiftly  along  the  road 
toward  Sandy  Hook.  Feeling  that  his  troops  were  too  ex- 
hausted to  overtake  them,  he  gave  up  the  pursuit. 

The  American  loss  in  this  battle  was  in  all,  killed,  wounded 
and  missing,  three  hundred  and  fifty-eight;  some  of  the 
latter,  however,  afterward  rejoined  the  army.  The  British 
left  two  hundred  and  fifty  on  the  field.  Many  they  had 
buried  during  the  night,  and  a  large  number  of  those  not 
badly  wounded  accompanied  the  army  in  its  flight,  so  that 
their  loss  was  never  ascertained.  Fifty-nine  lay  dead  with- 
out a  wound  upon  their  persons.  Several  hundred  took 
occasion,  during  this  battle  and  the  march,  to  desert,  and 
returned  to  Philadelphia  and  to  the  sweethearts  they  loved 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  333 

better  than  their  country's  service,  and  others  remained  in 
New  Jersey,  so  that  the  enemy  was  weakened  in  all  proba- 
bly not  less  than  two  thousand  men. 

This,  though  a  less  bloody  one,  was  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable battles  in  the  Revolution,  and  fixed  the  turning 
point  in  the  history  of  the  army.  The  rally  of  the  troops 
while  in  full  retreat,  the  steady  formation  of  the  lines  under 
the  blaze  of  the  enemy's  guns,  and  after  victorious  assaults, 
were  achievements  worthy  of  the  most  veteran  troops,  and 
reflected  honor  on  their  teacher  Steuben.  Hamilton,  who 
had  been  accustomed  only  to  the  movements  of  militia,  was 
filled  with  admiration  at  the  spectacle,  and  said  he  never 
before  knew  the  value  of  discipline.  From  that  time  on, 
the  regulars  relied  much  on  the  bayonet,  and  the  British 
grenadiers  saw  with  amazement  themselves  beaten  with 
their  favorite  weapon. 

Though  justly  indignant  with  Lee  for  thus  robbing  him 
of  victory,  Washington  immediately  reinstated  him  in  his 
old  command.  Lee,  however,  was  not  content  with  this, 
and  wrote  the  latter  an  impertinent  letter,  to  which  a  cold 
and  curt  reply  was  made.  Enraged  at  this  second  attack, 
as  he  deemed  it,  on  his  honor  and  character,  he  wrote  a  still 
more  insolent  letter,  which  brought  down  the  charge  from 
his  commander  of  being  "  guilty  of  a  breach  of  orders,  and 
of  misbehavior  before  the  enemy,  and  in  making  an  unne- 
cessary, disorderly  and  shameful  retreat."  Lee's  answer  to 
this  severe  accusation  was  so  insulting  that  he  was  imme- 
diately placed  under  arrest.  His  after  trial  and  suspension 
from  the  army  are  well  known. 

The  army  being  recruited,  Washington  moved  by  easy 
marches  to  the  Hudson,  and  crossing  at  King's  Ferry,  en- 
camped near  White  Plains.  In  the  meantime  he  had  heard 
of  the  arrival  on  the  coast  of  the  French  fleet,  composed  of 
twelve  ships  of  the  line  and  four  frigates,  under  Count  D' 
Estaing.  He  immediately  dispatched  a  latter  of  congratu- 


334  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

lation  by  his  aid,  Colonel  Laurens,  to  the  count.  Soon  after, 
on  being  informed  that  the  fleet  had  reached  Sandy  Hook, 
he  sent  Colonel  Hamilton  to  consult  with  him  on  the  best 
course  to  pursue.  It  was  at  first  hoped  that  a  combined 
attack,  by  sea  and  land,  could  be  made  on  New  York,  but 
the  pilots  reporting  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  take  the 
heavy  ships  over  the  bar,  the  enterprise  was  abandoned. 
Philadelphia  being  evacuated,  there  seemed  now  no  direc- 
tion in  which  the  fleet  and  army  could  cooperate  except 
Rhode  Island.  There  was  a  garrison  of  six  or  seven  thou- 
sand British  at  Newport,  and  it  was  therefore  resolved  that 
Sullivan  should  proceed  thither  with  five  thousand  men, 
followed  by  Lafayette  with  two  brigades,  while  the  vessels 
would  proceed  by  sea.  But  the  delay  caused  by  the  want 
of  troops  proved  disastrous  to  the  expedition.  Sullivan, 
however,  succeeded  at  length  in  gathering  an  army  of  ten 
thousand  men,  and  proceeded  to  besiege  the  place,  while  the 
French  fleet  came  steadily  up  the  channel,  past  the  English 
batteries.  Every  thing  now  promised  an  easy  victory,  when 
the  fleet  of  Lord  Howe  was  seen  hovering  in  the  distance. 
D'Estaing  immediately  put  to  sea  to  engage  it.  But  a  vio- 
lent storm  suddenly  arose,  disabling  both  fleets,  and  com- 
pelling the  English  vessels  to  return  to  New  York  for 
repairs,  while  those  of  the  French  came  limping  back  to 
Newport.  Sullivan's  hopes  again  revived,  but  the  French 
admiral,  deaf  to  all  appeals,  would  not  cooperate  with  him, 
declaring  his  orders  were,  in  case  of  any  damage  to  repair 
to  Boston  and  refit.  Sullivan,  enraged  at  what  he  con- 
sidered pusillanimous  conduct,  sent  the  count  a  fierce  remon- 
strance. This  only  made  matters  worse,  and  the  fleet  took 
its  departure  for  Boston,  and  the  enterprise  was  abandoned. 
The  ill  will  caused  by  this  protest  of  Sullivan  annoyed 
Washington  exceedingly,  and  lie  took  unwearied  pains  to 
heal  the  breach  that  had  been  made.  He  wrote  to  Lafay- 
ette to  act  as  mediator,  saying,  "  Let  me  beseech  you  to 


Xi-,'ht   Attiu-k  at  Paoli. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  337 

afford  a  healing  hand  to  the  wound  that  has  been  uninten- 
tionally made.  America  esteems  your  virtues  and  your 
services,  and  admires  the  principles  on  which  you  act.  Your 
countrymen  in  our  army  look  up  to  you  as  their  pattern. 
The  count  and  his  officers  consider  you  as  a  man  high  in 
rank,  and  high  in  estimation  here,  and  also  in  France,  and 
I,  your  friend,  have  no  doubt  but  you  will  use  your  utmost 
endeavors  to  restore  harmony,  that  the  honor,  glory,  and 
mutual  interest  of  the  two  nations  may  be  promoted  and 
cemented  in  the  firmest  manner."  Lafayette  needed  no 
greater  stimulus  to  action  than  the  wishes  of  Washington, 
and  he  put  forth  unwearied  efforts  till  harmony  was 
restored. 

There  being  a  suspicion  that  the  British  might  plan  an 
expedition  to  the  east,  for  the  purpose  of  attacking  the 
French  fleet,  and.  perhaps  Boston,  Washington  took  post  at 
Fredericksburg,  near  the  Connecticut  line,  and  commenced 
repairing  the  roads  as  far  as  Hartford,  so  that  the  army 
could  march  without  impediment.  Gates  was  sent,  also,  to 
take  command  at  Boston,  in  place  of  Heath.  This  almost 
entire  withdrawal  of  the  troops  east  of  the  Hudson,  left  the 
smaller  detachments  which  remained  on  the  other  side, 
much  exposed,  and  provoked  the  attacks  of  the  British.  One 
party  fell  on  Major  Baylor's  dragoons,  located  near  Tappan, 
surprising  and  massacreing  them  without  mercy.  A  similar 
attempt  was  made  on  Pulaski's  legion,  stationed  at  Egg 
Harbor,  where  privateers  were  being  fitted  out,  and,  through 
the  villany  of  a  deserter,  met  with  like  success. 

For  four  months  the  army  lay  comparatively  idle,  wait- 
ing the  further  movements  of  the  British.  In  the  mean- 
time Washington  became  very  solicitous  about  the  future. 
The  want  of  funds  in  the  treasury,  together  with  the  high 
price  of  food  and  clothing,  seemed  to  threaten  greater  evils 
than  mere  physical  exposure  and  suffering.  The  officers 
could  not  live  on  their  pay,  and  Congress  was  without  means 


338  LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON. 

to  raise  it,  while  discontent  and  loud  complaints  pervaded 
the  army.  In  a  letter  to  Gouverneur  Morris,  replying  to 
certain  inquiries,  he  says — "  Can  we  carry  on  the  war  much 
longer  ?  Certainly  not,  unless  some  measures  can  be  de- 
vised, and  speedily,  to  restore  the  credit  of  our  currency, 
restrain  extortion,  and  punish  forestallers.  Unless  these  can 
be  effected,  what  funds  can  stand  the  present  expenses  of 
the  army  ?  And  what  officer  can  bear  the  weight  of  prices 
that  every  necessary  article  is  now  got  to  ?  A  rat  in  the 
shape  of  a  horse  is  not  to  be  bought  at  this  time  for  less 
than  two  hundred  pounds,  nor  a  saddle  under  thirty  or 
forty ;  boots  twenty,  and  shoes,  and  other  articles  in  pro- 
portion. How  is  it  possible,  therefore,  for  officers  to  stand 
this  without  an  increase  of  pay  ?  And  how  is  it  possible  to 
advance  their  pay  when  flour  is  selling  at  different  places 
from  five  to  fifteen  pounds  per  hundred  weight ;  hay  from 
ten  to  thirty  pounds  per  ton,  and  beef  and  other  essentials 
in  this  proportion."  It  was  plain  that  this  state  of  things 
could  not  last.  The  officers,  wholly  unable  to  meet  their 
necessary  expenses,  would  inevitably  become  bankrupt. 

During  this  summer  a  project  was  set  on  foot  for  the 
invasion  of  Canada  by  the  allied  armies,  assisted  by  the 
fleet,  but  it  met  with  Washington's  decided  opposition,  and 
was  finally  abandoned. 

Autumn  closed  without  any  expedition  of  importance 
being  undertaken,  and  the  army  retired  to  winter-quarters. 
The  artillery  was  taken  to  Pluckemin,  while  the  troops 
stretched  in  a  line  of  cantonments  from  Long  Island  Sound 
to  the  Delaware.  Head  quarters  were  at  Middlebrook, 
where  were  stationed,  also,  seven  brigades.  One  brigade 
was  at  Elizabethtown,  another  near  Smith's  Close,  to  act  as 
a  reinforcement  in  case  of  need  to  West  Point ;  and  one 
at  West  Point.  There  were,  also,  two  brigades  at  the  Con- 
tinental village,  situated  between  West  Point  and  Fishkill, 
an<l  three  near  Danlmry,  Connecticut.  Thus  the  enemy  in 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  339 

New  York  were  confined  to  a  small  space  for  action,  while 
our  troops,  by  reaching  over  so  large  a  territory,  could  more 
easily  obtain  forage.  Putnam  was  at  Danbury,  and  McDou- 
gall  in  the  Highlands,  while  Lincoln  was  sent  to  take  com- 
mand at  Charleston,  to  repel  any  attack  the  British  might 
make  on  that  city  during  the  winter.  Of  the  four  regi- 
ments of  cavalry,  one  was  in  each  of  the  States  of  Virginia, 
Maryland,  Pennsylvania,  and  Connecticut. 

The  vexed  question  of  exchange  of  prisoners  again  came 
up,  and  Washington  was  much  annoyed  at  the  difficulties 
thrown  in  the  way  of  its  final  adjustment.  But  the  greatest 
cause  of  distress  and  anxiety  was  the  contemptible  condition 
to  which  Congress  was  reduced.  During  the  whole  year  it 
averaged  not  more  than  thirty  members.  Says  Sparks : 
"  Whole  States  were  frequently  unrepresented ;  and,  indeed, 
it  was  seldom  that  every  State  was  so  fully  represented  as 
to  entitle  it  to  a  vote."  But  although  so  feeble  in  numbers, 
it  was  still  feebler  in  intellect.  There  were  but  few  even 
second-rate  men  among  the  members.  Still  its  feebleness 
both  in  numbers  and  intellect,  was  not  the  worst  features  it 
exhibited.  It  had  descended  to  a  mere  political  arena, 
where  private  jealousies,  and  party  feuds  fought  their  bat- 
tles, reckless  alike  of  the  great  struggle  without,  or  the  wel- 
fare of  the  country,  except  so  far  as  they  affected  their 
selfish  ends.  Perhaps  it  is  not  to  be  regretted  that  its  jour- 
nals were  destroyed,  and  the  history  of  our  country  saved 
from  so  great  a  blemish  as  the  record  of  its  acts  would  have 
been.  The  views  and  feelings  of  Washington  on  the  sub- 
ject are  exhibited  in  a  letter  to  Benjamin  Harrison,  of  Vir- 
ginia. In  that  he  declared  without  hesitation,  that  he 
thought  the  separate  States  should  "  compel  their  ablest  men 
to  attend  Congress."  He  said  they  were  too  busy  with  their 
individual  concerns,  but  if  the  whole  government  should 
continue  to  be  mismanaged,  they,  too,  would  "sink  in  the 
general  wreck,  which  will  carry  with  it  the  remorse  of 


340  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

thinking  that  we  are  lost  by  our  own  folly  and  negligence." 
"  The  public,"  he  said,  "  believed  that  the  States  at  this 
time  are  badly  represented,  and  that  the  great  and  impor- 
tant concerns  of  the  nation  are  horribly  conducted,  for  want 
either  of  abilities  or  application  in  the  members,  or  through 
the  discord  and  party  views  of  some  individuals."  It  was 
plain  that  without  some  change  in  the  administration  of  the 
national  affairs  the  Revolution,  with  all  its  momentous  in- 
terests, must  end  in  utter  failure. 

While  Washington  remained  at  head-quarters,  Lafayette 
arrived  at  Fishkill,  on  his  way  to  Boston,  previous  to  em- 
barking for  France.  Here  he  fell  sick.  His  journey  from 
Philadelphia,  in  the  midst  of  severe  storms,  had  brought  on 
an  inflammatory  fever,  which  carried  him  to  the  verge  of 
the  grave.  His  life  was  despaired  of,  and  the  whole  army 
was  in  mourning.  Washington  immediately  repaired  to  his 
bedside,  and  watched  over  him  with  the  solicitude  and  fond- 
ness of  a  father.  The  young  marquis  was  deeply  affected 
by  this  attention,  and  carried  the  remembrance  of  it  with 
gratitude  and  affection  to  his  grave. 

The  army  being  well  hutted,  and  things  comparatively 
quiet,  Washington  proceeded  to  Philadelphia,  to  consult  with 
Congress  on  the  best  means  to  be  adopted.  He  proposed 
three  plans.  First,  to  operate  against  the  enemy  on  the 
sea-coast.  The  second  to  attack  Niagara,  and  the  British 
forces  in  that  region,  and  the  third  to  remain  entirely  on 
the  defensive  against  the  British,  and  act  only  against  the 
Indians,  who  had  grown  bold  by  their  impunity.  The  lat- 
ter was  resolved  upon  as  giving  repose  to  the  country,  and 
at  the  same  time  permitting  a  retrenchment  in  the  expenses 
of  the  war,  and  restoring  the  currency,  which  was  now  in 
;i  shocking  condition.  The  evils  growing  out  of  an  army 
unemployed,  and  also  of  such  a  tacit  confession  of  weakness, 
Washington  thought  would  be  overbalanced  by  the  relief 
from  military  exaction,  and  by  the  fact  that  the  alliance 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  341 

with  France,  and  the  threatened  war  of  Spain  with  England 
would  tend  more  to  secure  the  acknowledgment  of  our  in- 
dependence, than  victories.  If  he  had  consulted  personal 
ambition,  he  would  not  have  consented  to  idleness,  which  is 
always  dangerous  to  a  commander's  reputation. 

Having  completed  his  arrangements  with  Congress,  he 
returned  to  Middlebrook.  The  army  was  consequently  re- 
duced, and  more  attention  paid  to  its  discipline,  which  was 
entrusted  to  Steuben.  In  the  meantime  the  expedition  re- 
solved upon  against  the  Indians,  was  set  on  foot.  The  Six 
Nations,  with  the  exception  of  the  Oneidas,  and  a  few  of 
the  Mohawks,  had  joined  the  English,  and,  assisted  by  the 
Tories,  kept  the  New  York  frontiers  drenched  in  blood.  The 
tragedies  which  were  enacted  at  Cherry  Valley  and  Wy- 
oming, with  all  their  heart-sickening  details  and  bloody  pas- 
sages, were  fresh  in  the  recollection  of  every  one.  The  Six 
Nations  were  spread  along  the  Susquehanna,  and  around 
our  inland  lakes,  extending  as  far  as  the  Genesee  Flats. 
The  plan  adopted  by  Washington  was,  to  have  Sullivan, 
with  three  thousand  men,  start  from  Wyoming,  and  advance 
up  the  Susquehanna,  while  General  James  Clinton,  with 
one  brigade,  should  ascend  the  Mohawk,  and  form  a  junction 
with  the  former  wherever  he  should  direct.  Sullivan  left 
Wyoming  the  last  day  of  July,  and  did  not  return  till  the 
middle  of  October.  He  traversed  the  solitudes  as  far  as 
Genesee  river,  burning  and  laying  waste  the  towns  and 
villages,  and  rich  fields  of  grain ;  moving  like  a  devastating 
scourge  over  the  land,  and  inflicting  a  punishment  on  the 
Indian  tribes,  which  they  never  forgot. 

While  Sullivan's  army  was  thus  feeling  its  way  through 
the  wilderness,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  with  a  large  body  of 
troops  ascended  the  Hudson,  for  the  purpose  of  attacking 
Verplanck's  Point  and  Stony  Point,  standing  opposite  each 
other,  and,  if  possible,  force  his  way  through  the  Highlands. 
But  Washington,  being  apprised  of  his  designs,  hurried  off 


342  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

couriers  to  the  different  brigades  in  New  Jersej',  and  soon 
their  tread  along  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  convinced  Clin- 
ton that  it  would  be  a  desperate  undertaking  to  attempt  to 
force  the  strong  passes  above,  while  so  well  guarded.  He, 
however,  took  possession  of  the  two  points,  which  were  fee- 
bly manned,  and  leaving  strong  garrisons  in  each,  returned 
to  New  York.  Washington  then  removed  his  head-quarters 
to  New  Windsor,  a  few  miles  above  the  gorge  of  the  High- 
lands, and  looking  directly  on  West  Point,  while  his  army 
swarmed  the  forest-clad  shores  on  either  side,  watching  with 
anxious  care  this  gateway  of  the  State. 

Having  thus  drawn  the  forces  under  Washington  into  the 
Highlands,  Clinton  made  a  sudden  incursion  into  Connecti- 
cut, hoping  to  tempt  him  thither  also,  where  a  more  open 
country  would  make  a  battle  less  hazardous.  Governor 
Tryon,  with  two  thousand  men,  sailed  up  Long  Island 
Sound,  and  plundered  New  Haven.  He  then  returned  to 
Fail-field  and  Norwalk,  and  burnt  them  to  the  ground.  No 
public  stores  were  at  either  of  these  places,  and  the  whole 
expedition  was  simply  to  pillage  and  to  burn  the  dwellings 
of  peaceful  citizens.  It  was  the  unexpected  irruption  of  a 
band  of  robbers,  and  the  atrocities  committed  inflicted  a 
lasting  disgrace  on  the  name  of  Tryon,  and  covered  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  with  infamy.  This  attempt  to  entice  Wash- 
ington away  from  his  stronghold  proved  abortive.  It,  how- 
ever, broke  up  his  plan  of  not  acting  on  the  offensive,  and 
he  determined  to  strike  a  blow  which,  while  it  inflicted  a 
severe  chastisement  on  the  enemy,  should  at  the  same  time 
hush  the  complaints  against  his  inaction.  This  blow  was 
no  less  than  the  recapture  of  Stony  and  Verplanck's  Points, 
with  all  their  stores  and  armaments.  It  was  his  purpose 
at  first  to  assail  them  both  the  same  night,  but  this  he  after- 
ward abandoned,  and  concluded  only  to  make  a  feint  on  the 
garrison  at  the  latter  place,  to  distract  it  from  the  attack 
on  tin.:  former.  To  pi-event  miscarriage,  through  want  of 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  343 

information,  he  carefully  reconnoitered  the  place  himself,  and 
directed  Major  Henry  Lee,  who  commanded  a  body  of 
cavalry  in  the  neighborhood,  to  ascertain  accurately  the 
condition  of  the  fortress,  and  strength  of  the  garrison.  This 
being  done,  he  called  no  council  of  war,  consulted  none  of 
his  officers,  but  having  fixed  on  Wayne  as  the  proper  person 
to  take  charge  of  the  hazardous  enterprise,  sent  for  him, 
and  explained  to  him  his  plans.  Wayne  at  first  seemed 
doubtful  of  success,  but  was  ready  to  attempt  any  thing  on 
Washington's  request.  To  prevent  any  information  of  the 
project  reaching  the  enemy,  Washington  communicated  it 
to  no  one  but  Wayne,  and  one  member  of  his  family.  The 
night  before  the  attack,  however,  he  sent  for  Colonel  Rufus 
Putnam,  and  took  him  into  the  secret,  because  he  wished 
him  to  make  the  false  attack  on  Verplanck's  Point. 

Stony  Point  was  considered  almost  impregnable  to  any 
storming  party,  it  being  washed  on  two  sides  by  the  Hud- 
son, while  on  the  other  lay  a  morass,  which  was  overflowed 
at  high  water.  Besides  these  natural  defenses,  a  double 
row  of  abattis  surrounded  the  hill,  the  whole  surmounted 
by  the  fortress,  itself  garrisoned  by  six  hundred  men,  and 
bristling  with  cannon.  Washington,  fully  aware  of  the 
peril  of  the  undertaking,  drafted  every  officer  and  soldier 
himself,  and  a  ^more  splendid  body  of  men  never  moved  un- 
flinchingly up  to  the  cannon's  mouth. 

On  the  night  of  the  15th  July,  Wayne  set  out  with  his 
command,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  reached  the  morass,  which 
he  found  covered  with  two  feet  of  water.  The  word  "  halt" 
then  passed  in  a  whisper  down  the  line,  and  the  whole  stood 
to  their  arms  while  he  and  some  of  the  officers  reconnoitered. 
It  was  resolved  to  make  the  attack  in  two  columns,  and  on 
both  sides  at  once.  Every  musket  of  the  advance  parties 
was  unloaded,  and  at  the  word  forward,  they,  with  shoul- 
dered pieces,  plunged  into  the  water,  and  pushed  swiftly 
toward  the  heights.  The  sentinels  on  watch  immediately 


314  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

gave  the  alarm,  the  shout  of  "  to  arms  /"  "  to  arms  !"  and 
roll  of  drums  rang  along  the  hill,  and  in  a  moment  that 
lofty  rock  was  in  a  blaze,  and  raining  a  fiery  deluge  on 
Wayne's  columns.  But  nothing  could  shake  their  steady 
courage.  Through  the  iron  sleet,  over  their  own  dead,  over 
the  abattis  and  up  the  steep  acclivity,  they  pressed  sternly 
on,  the  only  sound  heard  in  their  otherwise  silent  ranks 
being  the  high  and  ringing  order  "forward,"  "forward," 
of  the  officers.  Their  tread  was  like  the  march  of  destiny, 
and  bearing  down  every  obstacle,  both  columns  entered  the 
fort  together,  and  as  they  met,  the  shout  of  victory  rose 
wildly  to  the  midnight  heavens.  It  was  gallantly,  gloriously 
done.  Wayne  had  a  narrow  escape.  A  musket-ball  grazed 
the  top  of  his  head,  and  brought  him  to  his  knees.  "  March 
on,"  he  shouted  •'  carry  me  into  the  fort.  I  will  die  at  the  head 
of  my  column"  Next  sunrise  the  morning-gun  was  fired 
by  an  American  hand,  and  carried  consternation  to  the 
English  ships  below.  The  land  rung  with  acclamations. 
Wayne  was  overwhelmed  with  compliments,  and  his  name 
was  in  every  one's  mouth.  It  was  the  most  brilliant  ex- 
ploit during  the  war,  and  would  have  covered  the  veterans 
of  a  hundred  battles  with  glory. 

Washington  went  up  to  the  fortress  after  the  capture  and 
examined  it.  Finding  that  it  would  require  too  many  men 
to  hold  it  against  the  force  which  the  enemy  could  bring 
against  it,  by  means  of  their  fleet,  he  ordered  the  works  to 
be  destroyed.  Lee's  subsequent  daring  and  successful  attack 
at  Paulus  Hook,  with  his  dismounted  dragoons,  was  a  repe- 
tition of  the  affair  at  Stony  Point,  and  added  fresh  laurels  to 
those  which  already  adorned  that  noble  officer's  head.  With 
these  brilliant  exceptions,  the  army  under  Washington  re- 
mained for  the  most  part  quiet.  He  employed  this  season 
of  comparative  inaction  in  corresponding  with  Congress, 
and  other  distinguished  men,  on  the  affairs  of  the  country, 
especially  on  the  .state  of  the  currency.  Congress  continued 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  345 

to  issue  its  worthless  paper  to  such  an  extent,  that  by  the 
following  spring  two  hundred  million  of  dollars  were  found 
to  be  afloat,  and  not  one  dollar  redeemable.  So  low  had 
this  paper  depreciated,  that  forty  dollars  of  it,  at  that  time, 
was  equivalent  to  only  one  dollar  in  coin.  This  state  of  the 
currency  was  ruinous  to  every  class  of  inhabitants,  but  on 
none  did  it  fall  so  heavily  as  the  soldiers  and  officers.  As 
money  sunk  prices  rose,  and  the  officers  were  compelled  to 
pay  double  for  every  thing,  so  that  many  resigned  to  escape 
beggary.  "  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  to  give  a  month's 
pay  for  a  breakfast,"  said  Colonel,  afterward  General,  Wil- 
liam Hull.  He  himself  gave  eleven  thousand  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  for  a  chaise  with  a  double  harness.  Added 
to  this,  speculators  who  had  funds  would  buy  up  any  article 
which  they  ascertained  would  soon  be  in  demand,  and  thus 
exhaust  the  market,  and  then  lay  their  own  prices.  These 
things  aroused  the  indignation  of  Washington,  and  troubled 
him  exceedingly.  He  declared  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  the 
enemy's  arms,  but  of  this  prostrate  currency,  and  utter  want 
of  patriotism.  He  reasoned,  he  expostulated,  he  appealed. 
He  plead  not  only  for  the  living,  but  for  the  "  unborn  mil- 
lions," whose  fate  this  struggle  was  to  effect.  "  Shall,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  a  few  designing  men,  for  their  own  aggran- 
dizement, and  to  gratify  their  own  avarice,  overset  the 
goodly  fabric  we  have  been  rearing  at  the  expense  of  so 
much  time,  blood  and  treasure  ?  And  shall  we  at  last  be- 
come the  victims  of  our  own  lust  of  gain  ?  Forbid  it — 
Heaven !"  He  found,  also,  cause  of  annoyance  in  the  un- 
ceasing assassin-like  attacks  of  Gates,  and  the  more  bold, 
open  and  malevolent  assaults  of  Lee,  who  pursued  him  with 
such  relentless  fury  that  the  name  of  Washington  became 
the  "  moon  of  his  madness." 

The  French  minister,  Gerard,  who  accompanied  Count 
D'Estaing,  came  to  camp  this  summer,  and  had  long  con- 
sultations with  Washington,  and  formed  various  plans  for 


346  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  future.  His  letter  to  Count  Vergennes  at  this  time, 
shows  that  he  was  as  much  impressed  by  Washington's  pre- 
sence and  greatness  of  intellect  as  others.  That  impalpable 
influence  and  grandeur,  which  it  has  been  found  impossible 
to  convey  an  idea  of  through  language,  affected  all  alike, 
from  the  most  accomplished  noblemen  of  Europe  to  the  wild 
Indian  of  our  own  forests. 

As  winter  approached,  head-quarters  were  established  at 
Morristown,  and  the  army,  pitching  its  tents  on  the  southern 
slope  of  Kimble's  Mountain,  commenced  building  huts.  The 
cavalry  was  sent  to  Connecticut,  while  strong  detachments 
guarded  the  passes  of  the  Hudson.  Clinton  finding  himself 
so  closely  watched,  and  constantly  thwarted  in  any  move- 
ments around  New  York,  resolved  on  an  expedition  to  the 
South,  and  at  the  latter  end  of  December  set  sail  for  Charles- 
ton, with  seven  thousand  troops. 

Washington,  during  the  winter  occupied  the  house  of 
Widow  Ford,  to  which  he  in  February  added  two  log  build- 
ings. In  a  meadow  at  a  short  distance  from  the  dwelling, 
between  forty  and  fifty  huts  were  erected  for  the  Life  Guard, 
numbering  at  this  time  two  hundred  and  fifty.  It  was  in 
this  meadow  Pulaski  drilled  his  legion,  and  performed  those 
daring  and  extraordinary  feats  of  horsemanship  for  which 
he  was  celebrated.  The  winter  set  in  excessively  cold — 
nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  experienced  in  this  country. 
The  ice  in  New  York  Bay  was  frozen  so  solid  that  heavy 
artillery  and  troops  crossed  from  the  city  to  Staten  Island. 
The  sufferings  of  the  troops  were  consequently  severe.  The 
snow  averaged  from  four  to  six  feet  deep  on  a  level,  obstruct- 
ing the  roads  and  keeping  back  provisions  from  camp,  so 
that  the  half  frozen  soldiers  would  sometimes  go  a  week 
without  meat  of  any  kind,  and  then  again  without  bread. 
All  through  January  this  half-starved  army  was  protected 
only  by  tents,  and  with  nothing  but  straw  between  them 
and  the  frozen  ground,  and  a  single  blanket  to  cover  them. 


Atta.-i,  .)!:   Kort  M\fiYu> 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  349 

Human  nature  could  not  bear  up  against  such  protracted 
sufferings,  and  desertions  and  plunder  of  private  property 
became  frequent. 

Washington,  all  this  time",  had  not  a  kitchen  to  cook  his 
dinner  in,  although  his  guards  had  put  up  the  logs  of  one 
for  him.  His  family  consisted  of  eighteen,  which,  with  that 
of  Mrs.  Ford,  were  "  all  crowded  together  in  her  kitchen, 
and  scarce  one  of  them  able  to  speak  for  the  colds  they  had 
caught."  Washington  crowded  into  a  kitchen  with  more 
than  twenty  others,  for  two  months,  without  salary,  without 
reward  of  any  kind,  and  struggling  with  a  selfish  Congress, 
and  compelled  to  defend  the  purity  of  his  motives  from  the 
aspersions  of  those  for  whose  benefit  he  is  laboring,  is  a 
study  for  a  patriot. 

During  this  extreme  cold  weather,  Lord  Stirling  took 
fifteen  hundred  men  in  sleds  and  crossed  the  ice  at  midnight, 
from  Elizabethtown  to  Staten  Island,  to  surprise  the  British. 
The  latter  had,  however,  got  wind  of  the  expedition,  and 
the  troops  returned  with  only  a  few  prisoners,  some  blankets 
and  stores  as  trophies.  One  third  of  this  detachment  had 
some  parts  of  their  persons  frozen,  and  were  more  or  less 
seriously  injured.  A  sort  of  partisan  warfare  was  maintained 
all  winter,  keeping  the  camp  in  a  constant  state  of  watch- 
fulness. As  an  illustration  of  the  duties  of  the  Life  Guard, 
it  was  their  habit  during  this  winter,  at  the  first  discharge 
of  guns  along  the  line  of  sentinels,  to  rush  into  Washing- 
ton's house,  barricade  the  doors,  throw  up  the  windows,  and 
stand  five  to  a  window,  with  muskets  cocked  and  brought 
to  a  charge.  On  some  mere  foolish  alarm,  Washington's 
wife  and  Mrs.  Ford  would  often  be  compelled  to  lie  shiver- 
ing within  their  bed-curtains  till  the  cause  of  it  could  be 
ascertained. 

The  Chevalier  de  Luzerne,  who  had  succeeded  Gerard  as 
minister,  visited  Washington  in  camp,  as  he  had  previously 
done  at  West  Point.  The  cheerful  manner  with  which  he, 


350  LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON. 

from  the  first,  accepted  the  poor  fare  and  miserable  accom- 
modations offered  him,  had  won  the  good-will  and  respect 
of  both  officers  and  men.  Spain  having  also  at  last  declared 
war  against  England,  our  prospects  grew  still  brighter,  and 
a  Spanish  agent,  though  not  an  accredited  one,  named  Mi- 
ralles,  accompanied  Luzerne  to  look  after  the  interests  of  his 
government  in  the  south.  He  died  this  winter  at  Morris- 
town,  and  was  buried  with  distinguished  honors,  Washing- 
ton and  the  principal  officers  appearing  as  chief  mourners. 
To  prevent  any  one  from  reopening  the  grave,  to  obtain 
possession  of  the  diamonds  and  jewels  that  were  buried  with 
him,  a  guard  was  placed  over  it  till  the  body  could  be  taken 
to  Philadelphia  for  interment. 

It  was  while  encamped  here  that  the  following  incident 
occurred,  illustrating  Washington's  religious  character.  On 
hearing  that  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's*  Supper  was  to  be 
administered  in  the  Presbyterian  church,  the  following  Sun- 
day, he  called  on  the  pastor,  Dr.  Jones,  and  inquired  if  they 
allowed  the  communicants  of  other  churches  to  unite  with 
them  in  the  service.  "  Most  certainly,"  replied  the  doctor, 
"  ours  is  not  a  Presbyterian  table,  but  the  Lord's  table, 
general,  and  hence  we  give  the  Lord's  invitation  to  all  his 
followers  of  whatever  name."  Washington  replied  that  he 
was  glad  of  it — that  so  it  should  be,  and  next  Sunday  was 
seen  seated  among  the  communicants.  Unsullied  by  his 
camp  life,  with  not  a  stain  on  his  blade,  he  could  go  from 
the  battle-field  to  the  communion-table,  as  well  as  to  his 
closet  in  the  wintry  forest. 

The  subject  of  the  exchange  of  prisoners  being  again  pre- 
sented by  the  British  commander,  the  French  minister  was 
very  solicitous  that  Washington  should  not  consent  to  any 
but  the  most  favorable  terms ;  urging  the  double  motive 
that  the  British  government  now  found  it  hard  to  replenish 
the  army  from  Germany,  and  needed  men  badly,  and,  also, 
that  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  insist  on  a  perfect 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  351 

equality  in  all  things,  not  only  for  our  own  sake  at  home, 
but  from  the  effect  of  such  a  position  abroad. 

During  this  winter  the  finances  of  the  country  reached 
their  lowest  ebb,  and  national  bankruptcy  seemed  inevitable. 
Lotteries  for  loans,  laws  making  paper  a  legal  tender,  and 
every  substitute  only  plunged  the  nation  into  deeper  diffi- 
culties. Every  measure  calculated  to  bring  relief  was  seized 
on  by  speculators,  to  advance  their  own  interests,  and  thus 
added  to  the  embarrassment  already  existing.  Washington 
became  so  indignant  at  this  villany  of  " forestalled,"  as  he 
called  them,  or  mere  speculators,  'that  in  a  letter  to  Read, 
he  said — "  I  would  to  God  that  some  of  the  more  atrocious 
in  each  State  were  hung  in  gibbets,  upon  a  gallows  four 
times  as  high  as  the  one  prepared  for  Haman."  The  British 
and  loyalists  saw  the  dilemma  into  which  the  government 
had  fallen,  and  increased  it  by  issuing  large  quantities  of 
forged  paper.  They  felt  and  said  that  unless  we  could  ob- 
tain a  foreign  loan,  which  they  did  not  believe  possible, 
"  unless  all  the  moneyed  nations  had  turned  fools,"  we  must 
inevitably  go  to  the  wall.  No  more  battles  were  needed ; 
bankruptcy  would  finish  the  rebellion.  Washington  had  all 
along  predicted  such  a  crisis,  and  now,  with  other  patriots, 
looked  gloomily  into  that  gloomiest  of  all  gulfs  in  time  of 
war,  a  bankrupt  treasury, 

At  the  beginning  of  April  the  army  consisted  of  only  ten 
thousand  four  hundred  men.  This  number  was  soon  after 
still  more  reduced,  by  sending  off"  reinforcements  to  the 
South,  where  now  was  the  chief  theatre  ^of  the  war. 

To  enliven  a  little  the  gloom  that  at  this  time  encom- 
passed the  struggle  for  liberty,  Lafayette,  the  untiring  friend 
and  resistless  pleader  for  the  American  cause,  arrived  with 
the  cheerful  intelligence  that  the  French  government  had 
sent  six  ships-of-the-line,  and  six  thousand  troops,  which 
would  soon  be  on  our  coast.  He  landed  at  Boston  amid 
public  rejoicing,  but  locked  up  the  glad  tidings  he  bore,  till 

19 


352  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

he  could  pour  them  forth  to  the  man  he  loved  better  than 
his  life.  The  meeting  of  Washington  and  Lafayette  was 
like  that  of  a  son  and  father.  The  eager  delight  with  which 
the  one  recounted  what  he  had  done,  and  told  of  the  aid 
that  was  approaching,  and  the  deep  and  affectionate  interest 
with  which  the  other  listened,  would  form  a  subject  for  a 
noble  picture.  The  marquis  had  obtained  the  promise  of 
large  supplies  of  clothing,  while  he  had  purchased  on  his  own 
account,  a  quantity  of  swords  and  military  equipage  for  the 
light-infantry  he  commanded.  In  speaking  in  council  one 
day,  of  the  enthusiasm  and  impetuosity  of  Lafayette,  the 
Prime  Minister  of  France,  old  Count  de  Maurepas,  remarked 
— "  It  is  fortunate  for  the  king  that  Lafayette  did  not  take 
it  into  his  head  to  strip  Versailles  of  its  furniture,  to  send 
to  his  dear  Americans,  as  his  majesty  would  be  unable  to 
refuse  it."  How  little  the  governments  of  France  and 
Spain  dreamed  what  a  train  they  were  laying  under  their 
own  thrones,  when  they  came  to  our  relief  in  the  struggle 
for  independence.  There  never  has  been  a  more  striking 
illustration  of  the  folly  of  human  scheming,  and  of  the  ease 
with  which  Heaven  works  out  its  grand  designs,  over  all 
earthly  mutations,  as  the  ultimate  result  of  our  success  on 
the  destiny  of  Europe. 

As  the  summer  advanced,  the  destitution  of  the  troops  in 
the  article  of  clothing  became  an  object  of  the  deepest  soli- 
citude. Many  of  the  officers  looked  like  beggars,  while  the 
tattered  soldiers,  most  of  them,  had  not  a  shirt  to  their 
backs.  Congress  being  apparently  unable  to  do  any  thing, 
private  sympathy  was  invoked.  The  ladies  of  Philadel- 
phia, from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  met  together  to  make 
garments  for  the  soldiers.  Lafayette  gave  a  hundred 
guineas  in  the  name  of  his  wife.  The  wife  of  the  French 
minister  six  hundred  dollars  of  continental  paper.  Like  the 
heroines  of  old,  the  women  sacrificed  their  jewelry,  and 
laV>ored  as  common  seamstresses  in  the  noble  work.  Twenty- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  353 

two  hundred  shirts  were  thus  made,  each  bearing  the  name 
of  the  maker.  A  ship  load  of  military  stores  and  clothing, 
belonging  to  Robert  Morris,  arriving  about  this  time,  this 
noble  financier  immediately  made  a  present  of  the  whole  to 
the  army.  Such  flashes  of  light  shot  through  the  gloom, 
keeping  alive  the  faith,  and  love,  and  courage  of  those  on 
whose  shoulders  the  Revolution  rested. 


\ 
354  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

Fall  of  Charleston— Arrival  of  the  French  Fleet— Defeat  of  Gates— Washington 
visits  Rochambeau — Treason  of  Arnold — Arrest  of  Andre—His  Execution — 
Cornwallis  in  the  South — Project  of  an  Attack  on  New  York — Suffering  of  the 
Troops — Mutiny  in  Wayne's  Command — Mutiny  of  the  New  Jersey  Troops,  and 
prompt  action  of  Washington — Inefficiency  of  Congress,  and  Jealousies  of  the 
States — Arnold's  Expedition  into  Virginia — Action  between  the  English  and  French 
Fleets — Lafayette  sent  South  to  cooperate  with  Steuben — Operations  in  Virginia 
— Washington's  Letter  to  the  Manager  of  his  Estate — State  of  the  Army — Letter 
to  Paul  Jones — Patriotism  of  Robert  Morris — Washington  prepares  to  Attack 
New  York — Cornwallis  Retreats  before  Lafayette  to  Yorktown — The  Allied 
Army  marches  rapidly  South—  Washington  visits  Mount  Vernon — Arrival  of  the 
French  Fleet  in  the  Chesapeake — Anxiety  of  Washington — Yorktown  Invested — 
Progress  and  Incidents  of  the  Siege — Capitulation  of  the  Army — Excitement  and 
Joy  of  the  American  People — Effect  of  the  News  on  the  British  Ministry. 

WASHINGTON  remained  comparatively  inactive  during  the 
summer,  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  French  fleet  and  army. 
Nothing  could  be  done  with  his  feeble  force,  unsustained  by 
a  fleet,  except  to  hold  the  country  around  New  York.  In 
the  meantime  his  heart  was  filled  with  the  deepest  solicitude 
for  the  fate  of  Charleston  and  the  army  under  Lincoln,  which 
occupied  it.  Hemmed  in  by  the  enemy,  whose  shot  and 
shells  fell  with  an  incessant  crash  into  the  dwellings  of  the 
inhabitants,  this  intrepid  commander,  who  had  held  out  long 
after  hope  had  abandoned  every  heart,  was  at  last  compelled 
with  his  three  thousand  troops  to  surrender.  A  dark  cloud 
was  resting  on  the  South ;  and  that  portion  of  the  country 
which  had  hitherto  escaped  the  ravages  of  an  army,  seemed 
now  marked  out  for  general  devastation. 

In  the  meantime,  the  French  fleet  arrived  (July  10)  at 
Newport.  Ptochambeau,  the  commander  of  the  land  forces, 
was  required  by  his  government  to  act  in  all  cases  under 
the  direction  of  Washington,  while  American  officers  were 
to  command  French  officers  of  equal  rank.  This  wise 
arrangement  produced  harmony  between  the  two  armies, 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  355 

and  gave  universal  satisfaction.  Washington  immediately 
drew  up  a  plan  for  a  combined  attack  on  New  York  by  sea 
and  land.  But  the  British  fleet  having  received  a  rein- 
forcement which  gave  it  a  decided  superiority,  the  French 
squadron  dared  not  put  to  sea,  and  remained  blockaded  in 
Newport.  There  also  the  French  army  remained  for  its 
protection,  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  other  division  of  the 
fleet*  and  land  forces,  and  the  summer  passed  away  without 
any  thing  being  accomplished. 

In  the  place  of  success,  there  came  the  news  of  successive 
defeats  at  the  South.  The  fall  of  Charleston  in  May  was 
followed  in  August  by  the  complete  overthrow  of  Gates,  at 
Camden — the  loss  of  many  noble  troops  and  the  death  of 
Baron  de  Kalb. 

While  in  this  state  of  inaction  Rochambeau  wrote  to 
Washington,  requesting  an  interview.  This  was  granted, 
and  the  }.atter  passing  through  Peekskill,  met  the  former  on 
the  21st,  at  Hartford.  Before  starting  he  had  written  to 
Arnold,  commanding  at  West  Point,  to  send  a  guard  of  fifty 
men  to  meet  him  at  Peekskill,  and  collect  forage  for  about 
forty  horses. 

Arnold  came  down  the  river  in  his  barge,  and  crossed  the 
river  with  him  at  King's  Ferry.  The  English  vessel  Vul- 
ture was  in  sight,  and  Washington  scanned  it  long  and 
carefully  with  his  glass,  and  spoke  at  the  same  time,  in  a 
low  tone,  to  one  of  his  officers.  This  made  Arnold  very 
uneasy.  Soon  after,  Lafayette,  turning  to  Arnold,  said, 
"  General,  as  you  have  secret  correspondence  with  the  ene- 
iny,  you  must  learn  what  has  become  of  Guichen."f  For  a 
moment  the  traitor  thought  himself  discovered,  and  de- 
manded, sharply,  what  the  marquis  meant.  The  next 

*  This  was  blockaded  in  Brest,  and  never  arrived. 

t  Guichen  was  the  commander  of  the  other  portion  of  the  French  fleet,  which  had 
for  a  long  time  been  expected,  but  which  at  this  time  was  blockaded  at  Brest. 


356  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

minute,  however,  the  boat  touched  "  the  shore  and  nothing 
more  was  said. 

Washington's  visit  to  Rochambeau  resulted  in  no  plan  of 
action,  as  every  thing  depended  on  the  arrival  of  the  ex- 
pected fleet  and  forces. 

After  two  days  of  pleasant  intercourse,  he  started  on  his 
return,  taking  the  upper  route  by  way  of  Fishkill,  so  as  to 
visit  West  Point.  In  the  meantime,  Arnold  had  completed 
his  scheme,  by  which  a  blow  was  to  be  struck,  against  the 
colonies  so  momentous  in  all  the  circumstances  attending 
it,  and  in  the  results  designed  to  be  accomplished,  that  even 
its  failure  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  at  noon-day  on  the  nation. 
This  intrepid  commander,  who  had  won  such  laurels  before 
Quebec,  on  Lake  Champlain,  and  at  Saratoga,  sought  and 
obtained  the  important  command  at  West  Point  solely  to 
deliver  it  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Incensed  at  the 
injustice  of  Congress  in  promoting  juniors  over  him,  mad- 
dened by  the  accusations  of  his  enemies,  and  mortified  by 
the  reprimand  ordered  to  be  administered  by  a  court-martial ; 
he,  with  a  baseness  almost  unparalleled  in  history,  resolved 
to  quench  his  rage  in  the  ruin  of  his  country.  Down  the 
abyss  of  infamy  into  which  he  was  about  to  plunge,  he 
gazed  without  flinching,  hurried  forward  by  the  single  in- 
tense, burning  passion  for  revenge.  He  had  long  been  in 
correspondence  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton  for  the  delivery  of 
West  Point,  and  the  absence  of  Washington  to  the  east,  was 
thought  to  be  a  favorable  time  to  effect  his  object. 

Major  Andre,  under  the  name  of  Anderson,  had  been  the 
medium  through  which  the  correspondence  was  carried  on, 
and  he  was,  therefore,  selected  to  consummate  and  close  the 
bargain.  He  proceeded  up  the  river  with  the  intention  of 
having  can  interview  with  Arnold,  on  board  the  British 
vessel  Vulture. 

But  difficulties  being  thrown  in  the  way  of  this  arrange- 
ment, lie  was  finally  induced  to  consent  to  go  ashore.  After 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  357 

midnight,  on  the  morning  of  the  22d  of  September,  he  step- 
ped into  the  boat  sent  by  Arnold  to  receive  him,  and  over 
the  unruffled,  placid  bosom  of  the  Hudson,  glittering  with 
reflected  stars,  was  rowed  silently  and  swiftly  to  the  shore. 
Arnold  met  him  on  the  bank,  and  the  two  retired  to  a  thick 
wood,  and  there,  amid  the  darkness  and  silence,  discussed  in 
low  tones  the  treason  and  the  reward.  It  was  Andre's  in- 
tention to  retire  on  board  the  Vulture,  but  not  being  able 
to  conclude  the  business  by  daylight,  he  was  persuaded  by 
Arnold  to  go  with  him  to  his  quarters  at  Smith's  house.  He 
had  been  directed  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton  not  to  enter  our 
lines  or  assume  any  disguise.  He,  however,  now  under  the 
change  of  circumstances,  did  both,  and  thus  at  once  became 
a  spy,  and  exposed  to  the  doom  of  one.  During  the  day, 
Colonel  Livingston  opened  a  sharp  fire  on  the  Vulture,  which 
compelled  her  to  drop  down  the  river.  Andre  listened  to 
the  cannonading  with  visible  emotion,  but  on  its  cessation 
resumed  his  composure.  By  ten  o'clock  the  arrangement 
was  completed,  and  Arnold  returned  in  his  barge  to  West 
Point.  Andre  passed  the  day  alone,  gloomily.  Although 
he  had  at  great  peril  consummated  an  arrangement  which 
would  secure  a  vast  advantage  to  his  king,  and  promotion 
and  glory  to  himself,  yet  he  could  not  but  reflect  that  he 
was  surrounded  by  enemies,  and  held  concealed  about  his 
person  the  evidences  of  his  character  as  a  spy.  He  had 
been  supplied  by  Arnold  with  two  passports,  one  to  the  ship 
and  another  for  the  land  route,  should  he  be  compelled  to 
take  the  latter.  Smith,  who  had  brought  him  ashore,  re- 
mained with  him  to  take  him  back.  Late  in  the  afternoon, 
however,  Andre  ascertained,  to  his  dismay,  that  Smith  would 
not  row  him  aboard  the  Vulture.  He  stubbornly  resisted 
all  appeals,  and  Andre  was  compelled  to  choose  the  land 
route.  Accompanied  by  Smith  and  a  negro  boy  he  set  out 
soon  after  sunset  for  King's  Ferry.  As  they  passed  leisurely 
along  the  country,  Smith  would  often  stop  to  converse  with 


358  LIFE  OF  WASHINGTON. 

acquaintances  bj  the  way,  but  Andre,  taciturn  and  gloomy, 
kept  slowly  on.  The  hostile  tone  of  the  conversation,  and 
the  many  eager  inquiries  put  to  Smith,  naturally  kept  him 
in  a  state  of  intense  anxiety.  About  nine  o'clock  they  were 
hailed  by  the  sentinel  of  a  patrolling  party  commanded  by 
Captain  Boyd.  The  latter  was  unusually  pressing  in  his 
inquiries  of  Smith,  and  urged  him  with  great  importunity 
to  stay  over  night.  The  latter  declining,  Boyd  requested  to 
see  his  passport.  This  was  too  positive  and  peremptory  to 
be  disobeyed,  but  the  captain  still  pressed  his  inquiries  and 
entreaties  to  stay  over  night.  He  at  length  so  worked  upon 
Smith's  fears,  by  representing  the  dangers  in  advance,  that 
the  latter  concluded  to  stop,  and,  notwithstanding  Andre's 
expostulations,  remained  all  night  near  the  patrol.  The 
two  occupied  the  same  bed,  but  it  was  a  long  and  restless 
night  to  the  British  officer.  Across  the  bright  prospect 
which  the  successful  issue  of  his  expedition  spread  out  be- 
fore him,  would  sweep  the  black  clouds  of  anxiety  and  fear. 
In  the  morning  they  proceeded  on  their  journey,  and  at 
length,  having  got  bej'ond  the  reach  of  the  patrolling  party, 
and,  as  Andre  thought,  beyond  all  imminent  danger,  his 
naturally  joyous  spirit  resumed  its  wonted  cheerfulness,  and 
his  companion  saw  with  amazement  the  sudden  change  from 
taciturnity  and  despondency  to  unusual  hilarity  and  pleasant 
conversation.  Poetry,  art,  and  literature,  one  after  another, 
became  the  theme  of  discourse,  and  he  already  seemed  to 
see  the  end  of  the  war  and  the  reduction  of  the  colonies,  to 
the  consummation  of  which  his  sagacity  and  personal  daring 
would  so  largely  have  contributed.  Near  Pine's  Bridge, 
Smith  parted  with  him  and  returned  to  Peekskill.  Andre 
kept  on  alone  till  within  a  half  mile  of  Tarry  town,  when  he 
was  suddenly  stopped  by  three  men,  lying  in  wait  for  sus- 
picious persons  and  cattle  going  toward  New  York.  Andre 
inquired  to  which  party  they  belonged,  and  understanding, 
from  their  answer  that  they  were  adherents  of  the  English, 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  359 

immediately  announced  himself  as  a  British  officer.  In  a 
moment  he  saw  his  mistake,  and  pulled  out  his  passport. 
This  would  have  been  sufficient  but  for  the  fatal  confession 
that  he  had  already  made.  The  men  then  took  him  into 
the  bushes  and  began  to  examine  him.  They  stripped  off  his 
clothes,  but  could  discover  nothing.  At  length,  in  drawing 
off  his  stockings,  they  detected  the  papers  containing  the 
drawings  of  West  Point,  together  with  a  full  and  accurate 
description  of  every  part  of  the  entire  works,  and  estimates 
of  the  forces ;  also  a  plan  of  the  future  campaign  which  had 
been  sent  to  Arnold  by  Washington  a  few  days  before. 
Andre  then  offered  heavy  rewards  if  they  would  let  him  go ; 
but,  true  to  their  country,  these  three  patriots  refused  the 
bribe,  and  took  him  to  Col.  Jameson,  commanding  at  North 
Castle.*  This  officer,  bewildered  and  almost  bereft  of  his 
senses,  or  else  possessed  of  stupidity  that  rendered  him  unfit 
to  command,  resolved,  with  all  this  damning  proof  before 
him,  to  send  Andre  to  Arnold.  Major  Talmadge,  second  in 
command,  was  absent  when  Andre  was  brought  in,  and  did 
not  return  till  evening.  When  Jameson  told  him  what  had 

*  Much  has  been  said  respecting  the  character  of  these  three  men — John  Pauld- 
ing,  David  Williams,  and  Isaac  Van  Wart — many  maintaining  that  they  were  nothing 
but  common  plunderers,  and  were  governed  solely  by  the  hope  of  reward  in  re- 
taining Andre.  I  must  confess  that  from  the  most  careful  investigation  of  the  mat- 
ter, Paulding  seems  to  me  to  have  been  the  only  one  in  whom  the  thought  of  a 
bargain,  after  the  discovery  of  Andre's  true  character,  never  entered.  Their  occu- 
pation was,  doubtless,  very  equivocal — but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  times 
were  dreadfully  out  of  joint,  and  love  of  country  could  be  strong  under  circum- 
stances that  at  this  day  seem  strange.  It  showed  itself  even  in  MUTINY.  The 
utter  want  of  honesty  on  the  part  of  government  to  pay  its  troops,  rendered  many 
of  them  not  very  scrupulous  about  the  method  of  reimbursing  themselves.  To 
the  curious  in  such  matters  I  would  say,  that  the  following  complaint  is  among 
General  Rufus  Putnam's  papers,  now  in  possession  of  Judge  Putnam  of  Ohio : — 
"  Mrs.  Hannah  Sniffen  says,  that  Gabriel,  Joseph,  and  Abraham  Riquard,  David 
Hunt,  Isaac  Van  Wart,  and  Pardon  Burlingham,  did,  on  the  night  of  the  27th  ult. 
take  from  Mr.  James  Sniffen,  an  inhabitant  of  White  Plains,  without  civil  or  mili- 
tary authority,  three  milch  cows,  which  they  have  converted  to  their  own  private 
use.  HANNAH  SNIFFEN,  in  behalf  of  her  father. 

Crane  Pond,  July  Wi,  1780." 


360  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

occurred,  he  was  filled  with  amazement,  and  declared  openly 
that  Arnold  was  a  traitor,  and  offered  to  take  on  himself  the 
responsibility  of  acting  on  that  conviction.  To  this  Jameson 
would  not  listen.  Talmadge  then  insisted  vehemently  on 
bringing  the  prisoner  back.  Jameson  finally  consented  to 
do  so,  but,  in  spite  of  all  remonstrance,  would  send  a  letter 
to  Arnold,  informing  him  of  the  arrest  of  John  Anderson, 
(as  he  was  called.)  The  papers  he  had  already  dispatched 
to  meet  Washington,  now  on  his  return  from  Hartford. 

The  messenger  being  well  mounted  overtook  the  party 
having  charge  of  the  prisoner,  and  they  returned  to  North 
Castle.  Andre  now  saw  that,  in  all  probability,  his  fate  was 
sealed.  Exposure  was  unavoidable ;  the  proofs  of  his  and 
Arnold's  crime  he  knew  were  more  than  ample.  The  pros- 
pect grew  black  as  midnight  around  him,  and  he  was  ab- 
sorbed in  gloomy  reflections.  Pondering  solemnly  on  his 
condition,  he  paced  up  and  down  his  apartment  with  a  slow 
and  measured  stride.  Talmadge  sat  watching  him,  and  as 
he  observed  the  manner  in  which  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and 
his  military  tread,  as  he  paced  the  floor,  he  was  convinced 
that  the  indifferently  dressed  prisoner  before  him  had  been 
bred  to  the  profession  of  arms.  The  next  morning  Andre 
wrote  a  letter  to  Washington,  in  which  he  frankly  confessed 
his  name  and  rank,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  came  within 
the  American  lines.  Previous  to  sending  it  he  showed  it  to 
Talmadge,  who  was  confounded  at  the  startling  develop- 
ments it  contained. 

The  papers  sent  to  Washington  missed  him,  as  he  did  not 
return  by  the  road  he  went,  but  took  the  northern  route  to 
Fishkill,  where,  Sept.  24,  he  arrived  late  in  the  afternoon, 
the  very  day  after  Andre's  capture.  Stopping  here  only  a 
short  time,  he  pushed  on  for  Arnold's  head-quarters,  eighteen 
miles  distant.  He  had  gone,  however  but  a  mile  or  two, 
before  he  met  the  French  minister,  Chevalier  Luzerne,  on 
his  way  to  Newport,  to  visit  Rochambeau.  The  latter  pre- 


Abandoning  the  Vessels  at  riourcster. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  363 

vailed  on  him  to  return  to  Fishkill  for  the  night,  as  he  had 
matters  of  importance  to  communicate. 

The  next  morning  Washington  was  early  in  the  saddle, 
having  sent  word  beforehand  to  Arnold  that  he  would  break- 
fast with  him.  It  was  a  bright  autumnal  morning,  and  the 
whole  party  in  high  spirits  pushed  rapidly  forward  through 
the  gorges  of  the  Highlands.  As  they  came  opposite  West 
Point,  Washington,  instead  of  continuing  on  to  Arnold's 
quarters,  which  were  on  the  same  side,  turned  his  horse 
down  a  narrow  road  toward  the  river.  Lafayette  observing 
it,  exclaimed  "  General,  you  are  going  in  the  wrong  direc- 
tion ;  you  know  Mrs.  Arnold  is  waiting  breakfast  for  us, 
and  that  road  will  take  us  out  of'our  way."  "  Ah !"  replied 
Washington,  laughingly,  "  I  know  you  young  men  are  all 
in  love  with  Mrs.  Arnold,  and  wish  to  get  where  she  is  as 
soon  as  possible.  You  may  go  and  take  breakfast  with  her, 
and  tell  her  not  to  wait  for  me.  I  must  ride  down  and  ex- 
amine the  redoubts  on  this  side  of  the  river,  and  will  be 
there  in  a  short  time."  The  officers  preferring  not  to  pro- 
ceed without  him,  two  aids  were  dispatched  to  tell  Arnold 
not  to  wait  breakfast.  The  latter,  therefore,  with  his  family 
and  the  two  aids  sat  down  to  the  table.  While  they  were 
conversing  on  indifferent  topics,  a  messenger  entered  and 
handed  a  letter  to  Arnold,  who  opened  and  read  it  in  pre- 
sence of  the  company.  It  was  the  one  from  Jameson,  an- 
nouncing the  capture  of  Andre.  Although  the  thunderbolt 
fell  sudden  and  unexpectedly  at  his  feet,  it  did  not  startle 
him  from  his  self-command.  Merely  remarking  that  his 
presence  at  West  Point  was  necessary,  he  requested  the  aids 
to  say  to  Washington  on  his  arrival  that  he  was  unexpect- 
edly called  over  the  river,  and  would  be  back  soon.  Repair- 
ing to  his  wife's  chamber,  he  sent  for  her  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  and  told  her  he  must  instantly  leave  her  and  his 
country  forever,  for  death  was  his  certain  doom  if  he  did 
not  reach  the  enemy  before  he  was  detected.  Paralyzed 


364  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

by  the  sudden  blow,  she  fell  senseless  at  his  feet.  Not 
daring  to  call  for  help,  Arnold  left  her  in  that  state,  and 
rapidly  descending  to  the  door,  mounted  one  of  the  horses 
belonging  to  Washington's  aids,  and  taking  a  byway  pushed 
for  the  river,  where  his  barge  was  moored.  Jumping  in  he 
ordered  his  six  oarsmen  to  pull  for  Teller's  Point.  Stimu- 
lating them  to  greater  efforts  by  the  promise  of  two  gallons 
of  ruin, 'he  swept  rapidly  past  Verplanck's  Point,  and  as  he 
approached  the  Vulture  waved  a  white  handkerchief,  and 
was  soon  safe  on  board.  In  the  meantime  Washington  hav- 
ing finished  his  survey,  rode  on  to  Arnold's  house.  Taking 
a  hasty  breakfast,  he  said  he  would  not  wait  for  Arnold  to 
return,  but  cross  over  to  West  Point  and  meet  him  there. 
As  the  boat  swept  over  the  water,  he  remarked,  "  Well, 
gentlemen,  I  am  glad  on  the  whole  that  General  Arnold  has 
gone  before  us,  for  we  shall  now  have  a  salute,  and  the  roar- 
ing of  the  cannon  will  have  a  fine  effect  among  these  moun- 
tains." At  this  moment  an  officer  was  seen  coming  down 
the  rocky  hill-side,  to  meet  the  barge.  It  was  Colonel 
Lamb,  who  looked  confounded  on  seeing  the  commander- 
in-chief.  He  commenced  an  apology,  declaring  that  he  was 
wholly  ignorant  of  his  Excellency's  intention  to  visit  West 
Point.  "  How  is  this,  sir,"  broke  in  Washington,  "  is  not 
General  Arnold  here  ?"  "  No,  sir,"  replied  the  colonel, 
"  he  has  not  been  here  these  two  days,  nor  have  I  heard 
from  him  in  that  time."  "  This  is  extraordinary,"  replied 
Washington,  "  he  left  word  that  he  had  crossed  the  river. 
However,  our  visit  must  not  be  in  vain.  Since  we  have 
come  we  must  look  around  and  see  in  what  state  things 
are  with  you."  After  passing  through  the  garrison  and 
inspecting  the  various  redoubts  he  returned  to  the  land- 
ing place  and  recrosscd  to  Arnold's  house.  As  the  boat 
touched  the  opposite  shore,  Hamilton,  who  had  remained 
behind,  was  seen  coining  rapidly  down  to  the  shore.  Ap- 
proaching Washington,  he  spoke  in  a  low  and  anxious 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  365 

tone,  when  the  two  immediately  hastened  to  the  house. 
Here  Hamilton  gave  him  the  papers  found  on  Andre,  to- 
gether with  the  letter  of  the  latter  to  Washington.  Had 
an  earthquake  suddenly  opened  at  the  feet  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  he  could  not  have  been  more  astounded. 
Himself,  the  army,  West  Point,  and  all,  were  standing  above 
a  mine  that  might  explode  at  any  moment.  How  far  did 
this  treason  extend  ?  Whom  did  it  embrace  ?  When  was 
the  hour  of  its  consummation  ?  were  questions  that  came 
home,  like  the  stroke  of  a  serpent's  fang,  to  his  heart. 
Ordering  Hamilton  to  mount  a  horse  and  ride  as  for  life  to 
Verplanck's  Point,  and  stop  Arnold,  if  possible,  he  called  in 
Lafayette  and  Knox  and  told  them  what  had  occurred, 
merely  remarking  at  the  close,  "  Whom  can  we  trust  now  ?" 
His  countenance  was  calm  as  ever,  and  being  informed  that 
Arnold's  wife  was  in  a  state  bordering  on  insanity,  he  went 
up  to  her  room  to  soothe  her.  "  In  her  frenzy"  she  up- 
braided him  with  being  in  a  plot  to  murder  her  child.  "  One 
moment  she  raved,  another  she  melted  into  tears.  Some- 
times she  pressed  her  infant  to  her  bosom  and  lamented  its 
fate,  occasioned  by  the  imprudence  of  its  father,  in  a  man- 
ner that  would  have  pierced  insensibility  itself."*  It  was 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  these  disclosures  were 
made  to  Washington,  and  an  hour  later,  dinner  being  an- 
nounced, he  said,  "  Come,  gentlemen,  since  Mrs.  Arnold  is 
unwell  and  the  general  is  absent,  let  us  sit  down  without 
ceremony." 

No  one  at  the  table  but  Knox  and  Lafayette  knew  what 
had  transpired,  nor  did  Washington  exhibit  any  change  of 
demeanor,  except  that  he  was  more  than  usually  stern  in 
voice  and  manner.  But  his  mind,  oppressed  with  nameless 
fears,  wandered  far  away  from  that  dinner-table,  and  no 
sooner  was  the  repast  over  than  he  addressed  himself  to  the 

*  Vide  Letter  from  Hamilton.    • 


366  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

task  before  him.  He  wrote  rapidly,  and  couriers  were  soon 
seen  galloping  in  every  direction.  He  announced  the  trea- 
son to  Colonel  Wade,  commanding  at  West  Point,  in  the 
absence  of  Colonel  Lamb,  in  the  single  sentence,  "  General 
Arnold  is  gone  to  the  enemy,"  and  directed  him  to  put  every 
thing  in  instant  preparation  for  a  night  attack.  He  sent  a 
messenger  to  Colonel  Gray,  ordering  him  to  march  at  once 
to  West  Point  with  his  regiment ;  a  third  to  General  Greene 
at  Tappan,  with  directions  to  leave  his  heavy  baggage  be- 
hind, and  press  swiftly  as  possible  for  King's  Ferry,  where, 
or  on  the  way,  other  orders  would  meet  him.  To  Colonel 
Livingston,  at  Yerplanck's  Point,  he  sent  the  laconic  letter, 
"  /  wish  to  see  you  immediately,  and  request  that  you  will  come 
without  delay."  To  Major  Low,  at  Fishkill,  and  an  officer 
with  a  party  at  Staatsburg,  he  sent  couriers  "  directing  them 
to  march  for  West  Point  without  delay."  He  also  wrote  to 
Colonel  Jameson,  to  guard  Andre  closely  and  send  him  im- 
mediately to  West  Point.  The  latter  messenger  arrived  at 
midnight  in  a  pouring  rain,  and  summoned  Andre  from  his 
bed,  to  face  the  pitiless  storm.  The  guard  marched  the 
whole  dark  and  dismal  night,  and  arrived  at  Robinson's 
house,  Arnold's  head-quarters,  early  in  the  morning. 

Washington  having  done  all  he  could  to  arrest  the  enor- 
mous evil  that  threatened  to  overwhelm  him,  retired  late  at 
night  to  his  bed,  fearful  that  the  sound  of  the  enemy's  can- 
non would  awake  him  before  daylight. 

Not  knowing  how  many  officers  might  have  been  cor- 
rupted by  Arnold,  and  finding  a  major-general's  name  men- 
tioned in  the  papers  taken  from  Andre,  he  next  morning 
sent  Major  Lee  with  his  dragoons  to  hover  near  New  York, 
and  obtain  all  the  information  in  his  power  from  the  secret 
agents  that  he  always  kept  in  the  city,  and  who  advised  him 
of  every  movement  of  the  enemy.  These  spies  were  un- 
acquainted with  each  other,  and  their  communications  came 
through  different,  channels,  so  that  by  comparing  the  several 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  367 

accounts  Washington  at  any  time  was  able  to  come  to  pretty 
accurate  conclusions  respecting  any  project  of  Sir  Henry 
Clinton.  They  usually  wrote  with  an  invisible  ink  which 
a  particular  chemical  fluid  alone  could  bring  out.  A  few 
lines  on  an  indifferent  subject  would  be  written  in  common 
ink  and  the  rest  of  the  letter  filled  up  with  important  news. 
Through  these  spies  Washington  soon  ascertained  that 
Arnold  was  alone  in  his  treason.* 

A  court-martial  was  now  called  to  judge  Andre,  and  he 
was  condemned  as  a  spy.  When  Sir  Henry  Clinton  heard 
of  it,  he  put  forth  every  effort  to  avert  the  dreadful  fate  of 
his  officer.  He  sent  three  commissioners  to  reason  and  re- 
monstrate with  the  officers  of  the  court.  He  appealed  to 
Washington,  while  Arnold  wrote  him  a  threatening  letter, 
declaring  if  Andre  was  hung  he  would  revenge  his  death 
on  every  American  prisoner  that  fell  into  his  hands. 

Washington,  though  his  heart  was  filled  with  the  keenest 
sorrow  for  the  fate  of  one  so  universally  beloved,  and  pos- 
sessed of  such  noble  qualities  of  heart  and  mind  refused  to 
arrest  the  course  of  justice.  As  in  all  cases  where  great 
trouble  came  upon  him,  so  in  this,  he  said  but  little,  but 
silently  and  sternly  wrestled  with  it  alone.  The  vastness 
of  the  plot,  and  the  rank  of  those  engaged  in  it,  only  ren- 
dered the  example  still  more  imperative — besides,  stern 
justice  to  the  nation  required  it.  Just  after  the  battle  of 
Long  Island,  Captain  Nathan  Hale,  a  graduate  of  Yale  Col- 
lege, a  young  man  of  rare  purity  and  elevation  of  character, 
went  over  to  Brooklyn,  at  the  request  of  Washington,  to 
ascertain  the  plans  and  movements  of  the  enemy,  and  just 
as  he  was  passing  the  outposts  on  his  return,  was  taken, 
tried,  and  hung  as  a  spy.  His  nobleness  of  heart  did  not 
shield  him  even  from  the  brutality  of  his  enemies.  Washing- 
ton, therefore,  in  looking  at  the  matter  from  every  point  of 

*  Vide  Sparks'  Life  of  Washington. 


368  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

view,  could  see  no  way  of  sparing  Andre  except  by  exchang- 
ing him  for  Arnold.  Although  he  did  not  make  this  formal 
proposition,  he  caused  Clinton  to  be  made  aware  of  his  views. 
The  latter,  however,  could  not  give  up  the  traitor,  richly  as 
he  merited  death,  and  justice  had  to  take  its  course.  When 
Andre  found  that  all  hope  was  at  an  end,  he  addressed  the 
following  letter  to  Washington,  which  doubtless  shook  his 
resolution  more,  and  inflicted  a  keener  pang  than  all  which 
had  gone  before. 

"  Tappan,  Oct.  1st,  1780. 

«SiR, — Buoyed  above  the  terror  of  death  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  life  devoted  to  honorable  pursuits,  and  stained 
with  no  action  that  can  give  me  remorse,  I  trust  that  the 
request  I  make  to  your  excellency  at  this  serious  period,  and 
which  is  to  soften  my  last  moments,  will  not  be  rejected. 
Sympathy  toward  a  soldier  will  surely  induce  your  excel- 
lency and  a  military  tribunal  to  adapt  the  mode  of  my 
death  to  the  feelings  of  a  man  of  honor.  Let  me  hope,  sir, 
that  if  aught  in  my  character  impresses  you  with  esteem 
toward  me,  if  aught  in  my  misfortunes  marks  me  as  the 
victim  of  policy  and  not  of  resentment,  I  shall  experience 
the  operation  of  those  feelings  in  your  breast  by  being  in- 
formed that  I  am  not  to  die  on  a  gibbet." 

He  waited  anxiously  but  in  vain  for  an  answer.  Still  he 
could  not  believe  his  request  would  be  denied,  and  never 
ceased  to  hope  till  the  scaffold  rose  before  his  vision.  It 
required  a  severe  struggle  on  the  part  of  Washington  to  re- 
fuse this  touching  request.  The  soul  of  honor  himself,  and 
keenly  alive  to  the  feelings  of  an  officer  and  a  gentlemen, 
he  felt  in  his  own  bosom  how  great  the  boon  asked  by 
Andre  was ;  but  the  sense  of  duty  to  his  country  forbade  the 
granting  of  it.  It  was  necessary  to  have  it  understood  that 
nothing  could  avert  the  fate  or  death  of  shame  of  a  con- 
victed spy,  and  on  the  2d  of  October,  with  the  courage  and 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  369 

composure  of  a  truly  heroic  man,  Andre  expiated  his  crime 
on  the  scaffold. 

In  the  meantime  the  prospects  of  the  colonies  in  the 
South  assumed  a  still  more  gloomy  aspect.  Cornwallis  was 
sweeping  the  Carolinas  with  his  troops,  while  a  strong  ex- 
pedition was  being  fitted  out  to  overrun  Virginia.  The 
complicated  and  disheartening  state  of  things,  however,  pro- 
duced one  happy  effect — it  imparted  some  humility  to  Con- 
gress, so  that  it  was  glad  to  turn  to  Washington  for  help. 
Gates,  its  favorite  general,  whom  it  had  sent  South,  was  now 
completely  disgraced,  and  it  was  compelled  at  this  late  day 
to  request  the  commander-in-chief  to  appoint  a  successor. 
He  selected  Greene,  who  soon  showed  the  wisdom  of  the 
choice,  and  commenced  that  career  which  covered  him  and 
his  tattered  army  with  glory.  Congress  also  passed  the 
measures  which  Washington  for  years  had  urged  in  vain — 
established  the  half-pay  system,  and  decreed  that  all  future 
enlistments  should  be  for  the  war. 

The  summer  having  passed  in  comparative  idleness, 
Washington  resolved,  if  possible,  to  strike  a  blow  before 
winter  set  in.  This  was  no  less  than  a  combined  attack  on 
New  York.  The  position  of  the  enemy  was  thoroughly 
reconnoitered — boats  were  kept  mounted  on  wheels — and 
the  whole  plan  of  attack  fully  developed.  Washington  had 
spent  a  whole  campaign  in  maturing  this  scheme,  which 
promised  the  most  brilliant  success.  Every  thing  was 
nearly  ready  for  the  attempt,  when  several  British  vessels 
of  war  entered  the  river  and  put  a  stop  to  the  preparations. 
Not  long  after,  the  army  went  into  winter-quarters  near 
Morristown,  at  Pompton,  and  in  the  Highlands,  and  nothing 
further  was  done.  Washington  established  his  head-quarters 
at  New  Windsor,  which  looked  directly  down  on  West  Point. 

As  cold  weather  came  on  the  troops  began  to  suffer 
severely  for  want  of  clothing  and  stores,  and  to  save  and 
feed  a  portion  of  them  he  was  compelled  to  send  back  the 

20 


370  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

new  levies.  He  had  predicted  this  state  of  things  in  the 
latter  part  of  November,  in  a  letter  to  General  Sullivan,  a 
member  of  Congress  at  the  time.  After  discussing  the  sub- 
ject at  length,  he  says — 

"  Another  question  may  here  arise.  Where  are  the  means? 
Means  must  be  found  or  the  soldiers  must  go  naked.  But 
I  will  take  the  liberty  in  this  place  to  give  it  as  my  opinion 
that  a  foreign  loan  is  indispensably  necessary  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  war.  Congress  will  deceive  themselves  if 
they  imagine  that  the  army,  or  a  state,  that  is  the  theatre 
of  war,  can  rub  through  a  second  campaign  as  the  last.  It 
would  be  as  unreasonable  as  to  suppose  that  because  a  man 
had  rolled  a  snow-ball  till  it  had  acquired  the  size  of  a  horse, 
he  might  do  so  till  it  was  as  large  as  a  house.  Matters  may 
be  pushed  to  a  certain  point,  beyond  which  we  cannot  move 
them." 

Greene  wrote  from  the  South  that  his  troops  were  "  lite- 
rally naked" — and  they  did  march  naked  by  hundreds  into 
battle,  presenting  an  exhibition  of  patriotism  and  valor 
never  before  surpassed  in  the  annals  of  war.  Not  only  was 
clothing  withheld,  but  the  pay  of  the  troops  also,  and  the 
evils  which  Congress  could  not  anticipate,  though  constantly 
thundered  in  their  ears  by  Washington,  now  began  to  fall 
on  the  army.  On  the  1st  of  January,  1781,  a  mutiny  broke 
out  in  the  Pennsylvania  line,  stationed  at  Morristown,  and 
thirteen  hundred  men  drew  up  on  parade  preparatory  to  a 
march  on  Philadelphia,  to  force  Congress  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet  to  give  them  redress.  The  officers  rushed  among 
them,  and  unable  by  commands  to  restore  obedience  resorted 
to  force.  The  mutineers  fired  in  turn,  killing  one  officer 
and  mortally  wounding  another,  and  for  two  hours  there 
was  an  indescribable  scene  of  horror  and  confusion.  At 
length  the  mutineers  got  in  marching  order,  and  scouring 
the  grand  parade  with  four  pieces  of  cannon,  marched  off. 
The  inhabitants  fired  alarm- nuns  on  the  route  to  Elizabeth- 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  371 

town,  and  beacon-fires  blazed  on  the  heights,  announcing 
some  great  and  imminent  peril.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  hearing 
of  the  revolt,  sent  commissioners  to  them,  offering  them 
high  rewards  to  join  the  British  service.  They  rejected 
with  scorn  the  infamous  propositions,  saying,  "  What !  does 
he  take  us  for  Arnolds  ?"  and  immediately  sent  these  propo- 
sals in  an  envelop  to  Wayne,  declaring,  that  if  the  enemy 
made  any  hostile  demonstration  they  would  march  at  once 
against  him.  The  emissaries  were  seized  and  given  up,  and 
afterward  tried  by  court-martial  and  shot.  Congress,  which 
could  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  counsels  and  prophetic  appeals 
of  Washington,  was  now  thoroughly  alarmed.  Although  it 
had  stubbornly  resisted  his  advice,  resolutions  would  not 
put  down  bayonets,  and  a  committee  was  appointed  tp  con- 
fer with  the  mutineers.  They  met  at  Trenton,  and  the 
claims  of  the  latter  to  their  pay  and  to  be  discharged  at  the 
end  of  three  years,  instead  of  at  the  close  of  the  war,  being 
granted,  nearly  the  whole  line  disbanded  for  the  winter. 
Washington  clearly  foresaw  that  this  success  of  the  revolters 
would  stimulate  other  portions  of  the  army  to  a  similar 
attempt.  The  result  would  be  the  self-destruction  of  the 
entire  army,  and  he  resolved  that  a  second  mutiny  should 
be  put  down  by  the  strong  arm  of  force,  whatever  might 
be  the  'loss  of  life  that  accompanied  it.  He  therefore  ordered 
a  thousand  men,  who  could  be  trusted,  to  be  picked  from 
the  different  regiments  in  the  Highlands,  with  four  days' 
provision  constantly  on  hand,  and  ready  to  march  on  a  mo 
merit's  notice.  His  anticipations  proved  true,  for  encouraged 
by  the  success  of  the  Pennsylvania  troops,  those  of  New 
Jersey,  stationed  at  Pompton  and  Chatham,  revolted  also — 
determined  to  march  to  Trenton,  where  Congress  was  then 
sitting,  and  demand  their  rights  by  force  of  arms.  Wash- 
ington immediately  dispatched  six  hundred  men,  under 
Howe,  with  orders  to  march  rapidly  and  secretly  to  the  camp 
of  the  mutineers.  The  snow  was  deep  and  the  cold  intense, 


372  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

but  this  band  of  resolute  men  pushed  swiftly  forward, 
bivouacking  where  night  overtook  them,  and  on  the  fourth 
day  arrived  near  the  camp  of  the  revolted  troops,  Jan.  27th, 
1781.  Halting  till  midnight,  Howe  resumed  his  march, 
and  taking  positions,  and  planting  his  artillery  so  as  to  com- 
mand every  approach,  he  waited  for  daylight  to  appear. 
When  light  broke  over  the  encampment,  the  mutineers  to 
their  amazement  saw  ranks  of  armed  men  on  every  side, 
and  cannon  sweeping  the  entire  field.  Howe  ordered  them 
to  parade  at  once,  and  without  arms,  in  front  of  their  huts, 
saying  that  he  would  allow  but  five  minutes  in  which  to  do 
it.  "  What,"  said  they,  "  and  no  conditions  1" 

"  No  conditions  !"  was  the  stern  response. 

"  Then,  if  we  are  to  die,  we  might  as  well  die  where  we 
are  as  any  where  else." 

The  regiment  of  Colonel  Sprout  was  immediately  ordered 
to  advance,  when  the  promise  of  submission  was  reluctantly 
given.  They  then  paraded  without  arms  and  gave  up  three 
of  the  ringleaders,  who  were  tried  and  condemned  on  the 
spot.  Two  were  shot,  twelve  of  their  own  companions 
being  compelled  to  act  as  executioners.  The  report  of  those 
twelve  muskets,  and  the  lifeless  bodies  of  their  leaders 
stretched  on  the  snow,  carried  consternation  into  the  hearts 
of  the  others,  and  they  made  concessions  to  their  officers, 
and  promised  obedience  in  future.  The  blow  had  been  sud- 
den and  terrible,  and  needed  no  repetition.  Washington 
and  Congress  were  not  unlike  only  in  preventing  evil,  but 
in  arresting  and  curing  it.  But  just,  as  well  as  severe,  the 
former  immediately  appointed  commissioners  to  inquire  into 
the  grievances  of  the  soldiers,  which  he  knew  were  not 
imaginary,  and  have  them  redressed.  This  one  example 
was  sufficient,  and  the  whisper  of  revolt  was  heard  no  more 
in  the  army. 

While  these  painful  events  were  transpiring,  Laurens, 
who  had  been  appointed  by  Congress  a  commissioner 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  375 

to  visit  France,  to  negotiate  a  loan  of  money  and  obtain 
supplies,  was  in  communication  with  Washington  to  receive 
the  advice  and  instructions  which  Congress  had  appointed 
the  latter  to  give  him. 

The  jealousies  of  the  different  States,  and  the  fear  of  Con- 
gress to  assert  its  authority,  and  command  troops  to  be  raised, 
taxes  levied,  and  clothing  supplied,  kept  the  army  in  a  piti- 
able condition.  The  resolutions  it  had  passed,  in  accordance 
with  Washington's  views,  were  all  well  in  their  way,  but 
worthless  unless  enforced.  Right  in  the  face  of  its  decrees 
that  troops  should  be  enlisted  for  the  war,  the  States  con- 
tinued on  the  old  system  of  engaging  them  only  for  a  spe- 
cified time.  The  bugbear  of  dictatorial  power  which  they 
feared  that  Washington,  with  an  army  entirely  under  his 
control,  might  assume,  wore  a  more  horrid  aspect  than  the 
evils  under  which  the  nation  suffered,  and  while  they  allowed 
Congress  to  make  alliances,  vote  away  the  money  of  the 
nation,  and  do  all  other  acts  of  the  highest  executive 
authority,  it  must  not  draft  soldiers  and  lay  personal  taxes, 
lest  it  should  infringe  individual  liberty. 

During  the  winter,  Clinton  planned  an  expedition  South, 
composed  of  fifteen  hundred  men,  and  placed  it  under 
Arnold,  who  was  directed  to  ascend  the  Chesapeake  and 
reduce  the  country.  The  traitor,  zealous  for  his  new  mas- 
ter, passed  up  the  James  River  to  Richmond,  which  he 
burned  to  the  ground,  and  by  his  depredations  seemed  de- 
termined to  carry  out  the  threat  he  had  made  to  Washing- 
ton, if  he  should  allow  Andre  to  be  executed.  Washington 
dispatched  forces  to  the  South  to  meet  this  new  inroad,  and 
was  exceedingly  anxious  that  a  portion  of  the  French  fleet 
should  cooperate  with  them,  and  blockade  Arnold  in  James 
River.  Such  a  movement,  he  was  confident,  would  secure 
the  destruction  of  the  corps.  But  the  fleet  was  blockaded 
in  Newport  by  the  British,  and  could  not  with  safety  put 
to  sea.  In  the  middle  of  January,  however,  a  severe  storm 


376  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

swept  the  eastern  coast,  and  when  it  broke,  a  British  sixty- 
four  was  seen  off  Montauk  Point,  under  jury-masts,  the 
Culloden,  a  seventy-four,  aground  on  a  reef  near  Gardiner's 
Island,  while  the  Bedford,  another  seventy-four,  was  adrift 
in  the  Sound,  swept  of  every  spar,  and  her  whole  upper  tier 
of  guns  thrown  overboard.  Destouches,  who  had  succeeded 
Chevalier  de  Ternay,  after  his  death,  reconnoitered  the 
shattered  fleet  for  the  purpose  of  engaging  it,  but  found  it 
still  too  strong  to  be  attacked.  He,  however,  took  advan- 
tage of  its  scattered  condition  to  send  three  vessels  of  war, 
in  accordance  with  Washington's  request,  to  blockade  Ar- 
nold. These,  under  M.  de  Tilly,  arrived  in  the  Chesapeake ; 
but  Arnold,  who  had  been  advised  of  the  movement,  with- 
drew his  ships  so  far  up  the  Elizabeth  River  that  the 
heavier  vessels  of  the  French  could  not  reach  him.  Thus 
the  expedition,  which,  if  it  could  have  sailed  sooner,  as 
Washington  expected,  would  have  been  successful,  was  ren- 
dered abortive,  and  the  vessels  returned  to  Newport. 

M.  Destouches  now  resolved,  at  the  earnest  recommenda- 
tion of  Washington,  to  proceed  to  sea  with  his  whole  fleet 
and  sail  for  the  Chesapeake.  He  departed  on  the  16th  of 
March,  followed  by  the  British  admiral  with  the  whole  of 
his  fleet.  An  action  took  place  off  the  capes  of  Virginia, 
which  terminated  without  any  decisive  result,  and  the 
French  squadron  returned  to  Newport.  Previous  to  this, 
when  Washington  was  informed  of  the  departure  of  the 
three  vessels  to  blockade  Arnold,  he  dispatched  Lafayette 
with  twelve  hundred  men,  by  land,  to  cooperate  with  him 
and  aid  Baron  Steuben,  who  with  a  mere  handful  of  militia 
had  been  left  to  resist  the  invasion. 

In  the  meantime,  (March  2d3)  Washington  made  a  visit 
to  Newport,  to  consult  with  Rochambeau  on  a  plan  for  the 
summer  campaign.  He  wras  received  with  great  honor,  and 
after  an  absence  of  three  weeks  returned  to  head-quarters. 
The  movements  of  the  enemy,  however,  were  so  uncertain, 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  377 

that  nothing  definite  could  be  decided  upon  except  in  any 
case  to  act  in  concert.  Whatever  shape  affairs  might  ulti- 
mately assume,  one  thing  was  evident,  the  British  were 
directing  their  attention  more  exclusively  to  the  South. 
Notwithstanding  the  defeat  of  Tarleton  by  Morgan,  and  the 
consummate  generalship  exhibited  by  Greene,  Cornwallis 
had  obtained  a  strong  foothold  in  the  Carolinas,  and  it  was 
clearly  the  opinion  of  the  latter  that  the  theatre  of  the  war 
should  be  transferred  in  that  direction,  even  if  it  were  ne- 
cessary to  abandon  New  York.  Clinton,  in  consequence, 
sent  off  heavy  detachments  to  cooperate  with  him,  and  it 
became  evident  that  the  forces  accumulating  there  would 
soon  be  able  to  trample  under  foot  all  the  opposition  that 
could  be  offered.  Light  armed  vessels  pushed  up  the  various 
rivers  of  Virginia,  plundering  and  desolating  as  they  ad- 
vanced. One  ascended  the  Potomac  as  far  as  Mount  Vernon, 
and  Lund  Washington,  the  manager  of  the  estate,  wishing 
to  save  the  buildings  from  conflagration,  sent  on  board  and 
offered  the  enemy  refreshments.  Washington  when  he 
heard  of  it  expressed  his  regret,  saying,  in  that  lofty  pa- 
triotism which  like  the  fire  never  ceased  to  burn :  "  I  am 
very  sorry  to  hear  of  your  loss ;  I  am  a  little  sorry  to  hear 
of  my  own ;  but  that  which  gives  me  most  concern  is,  that 
you  should  go  on  board  the  enemy's  vessels  and  furnish 
them  with  refreshments.  It  would  have  been  a  less  painful 
circumstance  to  me  to  have  heard,  that,  in  consequence  of 
your  non-compliance  with  their  request,  they  had  burned 
my  house  and  laid  my  plantation  in  ruins.  You  ought  to 
have  considered  yourself  as  my  representative,  and  should 
have  reflected  on  the  bad  example  of  communicating  with 
the  enemy,  and  making  a  voluntary  offer  of  refreshments 
to  them  with  a  view  to  prevent  a  conflagration."  This  is 
not  a  public  letter,  designed  to  meet  the  public  eye,  but  a 
private,  confidential  one,  revealing  the  feelings  of  a  heart  in 
which  love  of  country  absorbed  every  other  interest  and 


378  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

emotion.  It  furnished,  also,  directions  for  future  conduct. 
It  was  saying  to  his  manager,  rather  than  ever  again  hold 
any  intercourse  with  the  enemy,  or  make  any  terms  with 
them,  let  them  burn  down  my  dwellings  and  lay  waste  my 
possessions.  Indeed,  in  this  very  letter  he  says  he  expects 
such  a  result.  What  perfect  harmony  there  is  between  his 
secret  thoughts  and  public  acts  in  every  thing  respecting 
the  welfare  of  his  country. 

With  what  prospects  he  was  about  to  enter  on  the  sum- 
mer campaign  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  entry 
made  in  his  diary  on 'the  first  of  May:  "Instead  of  having 
magazines  filled  with  provisions,  we  have  a  scanty  pittance 
scattered  here  and  there  in  the  different  States ;  instead  of 
having  our  arsenals  well  supplied  with  military  stores,  they 
are  poorly  provided,  and  the  workmen  all  leaving  them; 
instead  of  having  the  various  articles  of  field  equipage  in 
readiness  to  be  delivered,  the  quarter-master  general,  as  the 
dernier  resort,  according  to  his  account,  is  now  applying  to 
the  several  States  to  provide  those  things  for  their  troops 
respectively ;  instead  of  having  a  regular  system  of  trans- 
portation established  upon  credit,  or  funds  in  the  quarter- 
master's hands  to  defray  the  expenses  of  it,  we  have  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other,  and  all  that  business  being  done  by 
military  impress,  we  are  are  daily  and  hourly  oppressing 
the  people,  souring  their  tempers,  and  alienating  their  affec- 
tions; instead  of  having  the  regiments  completed  to  the 
new  establishment,  which  ought  to  have  been  done  agree- 

O  o 

ably  to  the  requisitions  of  Congress,  scarce  any  State  in  the 
Union  has  at  this  hour  an  eighth  part  of  its  quota  in  the 
field,  and  little  prospect  that  I  can  see  of  ever  getting  more 
than  half;  in  a  word,  instead  of  having  every  thing  in 
readiness  to  take  the  field,  we  have  nothing;  and  instead 
of  having  a  glorious  offensive  campaign  before  us,  we  have 
a  bewildered  and  gloomy  defensive  one,  unless  we  should 
receive  a  powerful  aid  of  ships,  land  troops,  and  money, 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  379 

from  our  generous  allies,  and  those  at  present  are  too  con- 
tingent to  build  upon."*  It  required  more  than  a  prophet's 
ken  to  see  light  beyond  this  darkness,  more  than  the  spirit 
of  man  to  breathe  on  such  a  chaos  to  bring  or  er  and  form 
out  of  it.  But,  "  our  generous  allies"  did  fortunately  come 
to  our  relief.  A  French  frigate,  with  Count  de  Barras  on 
board,  arrived  at  Boston,  bringing  the  cheering  intelligence 
that  troops  and  vessels  of  war  were  on  the  way,  while  a 
fleet,  under  Count  de  Grasse,  designed  to  leave  the  West 
Indies  for  the  American  coast  in  July  or  August. 

About  this  time  Washington  wrote  to  Paul  Jones,  who 
had  arrived  at  Philadelphia  in  February  in  the  Ariel,  with 
stores  and  clothing,  which  had  long  been  expected,  con- 
gratulating him  on  his  glorious  victory  over  the  Serapis,  and 
the  highly  complimentary  report  of  the  Board  of  Admiralty, 
that  had  been  directed  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  delay. 
His  daring  cruise  along  the  coast  of  England,  the  conster- 
nation he  had  spread  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  the  gal- 
lant deeds  by  which  he  had  "  made  the  flag  of  America  re- 
spected among  the  flags  of  other  nations,"  were  mentioned 
with  the  warmest  approbation,  and  declared  worthy  of  par- 
ticular regard  from  Congress. 

The  news  of  the  arrival  of  fresh  troops  and  additional 
vessels,  and  of  more  soon  to  be  on  our  coast,  spread  new 
life  through  the  American  camp,  and  Washington  resolved 
at  once  to  open  a  vigorous  campaign.  The  commanders  of 
the  allied  armies  met  at  Weathersfield,  Connecticut,  to  deter- 
mine on  the  best  plan  to  pursue.  The  French  proposed  to 
make  a  Southern  campaign  in  Virginia,  but  Washington  was 
of  the  firm  opinion  that  a  combined  attack,  by  sea  and  land, 
should  be  made  on  New  York.  To  the  strong;  reasons  which 

o 

he  gave,  the  former  yielded,  and  immense  preparations  were 
set  on  foot.  In  the  meantime,  Washington  watched  with 

*  Vide  Sparks'  Letters  and  Speeches  of  Washington,  vol.  viii.  page  31. 


380  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  deepest  anxiety  the  operations  of  Lafayette  and  Greene 
in  the  South,  fondly  hoping  that  their  successes  would  draw 
off  large  reinforcements  from  the  army  in  New  York,  and 
thus  materially  weaken  the  garrison.  Robert  Morris,  who 
had  been  appointed  superintendent  of  finance,  animated  with 
the  same  spirit  of  self-devotion  as  Washington,  sent  forward 
voluntarily  two  thousand  barrels  of  flour  to  the  army,  which 
he  had  purchased  on  his  own  credit,  promising  to  follow 
it  with  a  large  sum  of  money,  to  be  raised  in  the  same 
way. 

In  the  meantime  orders  had  been  issued  to  the  different 
sections  of  the  army,  and  they  closed  rapidly  in  upon  the 
Hudson,  forming  a  junction  at  Peekskill.  Washington,  on 
the  2d  of  July,  left  his  tents  standing  and  his  baggage  be- 
hind, and  rapidly  descended  the  river,  hoping  to  take  the 
enemy's  garrison  at  Kingsbridge,  and  posts  in  the  vicinity 
by  surprise.  The  night  before,  Lincoln,  with  a  strong  de- 
tachment, passed  down  the  stream  with  muffled  oars,  and 
landing  a  mile  below  Yonkers,  pushed  rapidly  and  silently 
over  the  hills  in  the  darkness,  unobserved  by  the  British 
light-horse,  and  before  daylight  drew  up  near  Kingsbridge. 
But  the  enemy's  pickets,  hearing  the  tread  of  the  advancing 
columns,  and  beholding  through  the  gloom  the  advance  par- 
ties, opened  a  brisk  fire.  Washington,  who  had  marched 
with  the  main  army  all  night,  was  already  on  the  slope  of 
Valentine's  Hill,  when  the  sharp  rattle  of  musketry  was 
borne  by  on  the  night  air.  The  order  to  march  was  in- 
stantly given,  and  the  troops  hastened  forward  to  the  sup- 
port of  Lincoln.  The  enemy  retired  behind  their  works, 
and  De  Lancey,  stationed  on  Harlem  River,  also  aroused  by 
the  firing,  hastily  retreated  before  the  Duke  de  Lauzun,  ap- 
proaching by  way  of  Hartford,  could  cut  him  off.  Baffled 
in  this  attempt,  Washington  withdrew,  and  on  the  4th  of 
July,  pitched  his  camp  near  Dobbs'  Ferry.  Two  days  after, 
the  heads  of  the  French  columns  appeared  in  view,  with 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  381 

drums  beating  and  colors  flying,  and  were  received  with  en- 
thusiasm by  the  whole  army. 

Rochambeau  had  rapidly  marched  them  from  Newport, 
in  four  divisions,  by  way  of  Hartford ;  one  regiment,  that 
of  Saintonge,  never  halting  for  a  single  day's  rest  the  entire 
distance.  As  Washington's  army  lay  in  two  lines,  resting 
on  the  Hudson,  the  French  took  position  on  the  left,  ex- 
tending in  a  single  line  to  the  Bronx.  As  the  national 
colors  of  the  two  armies  swayed  away  in  the  breeze,  joy 
and  enthusiasm  animated  every  heart,  and  a  glorious  issue 
to  the  summer  campaign  was  confidently  expected. 

But  just  in  proportion  as  foreign  aid  was  received,  the 
colonies,  especially  those  of  New  England,  New  York,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  New  Jersey,  grew  more  listless,  and  the  re- 
cruits came  in  slowly. 

The  mission  of  Laurens  had  been  partially  successful. 
France  promised  six  millions  of  livres,  and  the  king  had 
pledged  himself  to  negotiate  a  loan  for  the  United  States 
for  ten  millions,  so  that  at  the  close  of  the  year  he  would 
have  furnished  in  all  twenty-five  millions. 

The  two  armies  remained  inactive  in  their  encampment 
for  a  fortnight,  but  Washington  kept  in  constant  communi- 
cation with  the  Southern  armies  through  a  chain  of  ex- 
presses. On  the  18th,  he,  and  three  French  generals,  crossed 
the  river  at  Dobbs'  Ferry,  and  escorted  by  a  hundred  and 
fifty  men,  ascended  the  hills  that  terminate  the  Pallisades, 
and  spent  the  entire  day  in  surveying  through  their  glasses 
the  portion  of  the  enemy  on  the  northern  part  of  the  island. 
Three  days  after,  with  five  thousand  men,  he  advanced  to 
reconnoitre  the  works  at  Kingsbridge  and  cut  off  such  of 
Delancey's  light  troops  as  might  be  found  without  the  lines. 
The  next  day  the  army  displayed  on  the  heights  opposite 
the  enemy.  The  latter  was  wholly  unaware  of  their  ap- 
proach till  their  sudden  apparition  on  the  neighboring  hills 
announced  it.  Washington  and  Rochambeau  then  took  with 


382  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

them  the  engineers  and  reconnoitred  the  enemy's  works. 
They  afterward  went  over  to  Throg's  Neck  and  measured 
the  distance  across  to  Long  Island.  The  enemy  discovered 
the  party  and  leveled  some  cannon  shot  at  them,  which, 
however,  passed  harmlessly  by.  Having  finished  the  recon- 
noisance,  the  whole  division  retired,  reaching  the  camp  at 
midnight. 

It  was  impossible,  of  course,  while  the  French  fleet  at 
Newport  was  blockaded,  to  effect  any  thing  against  New 
York.  Washington,  therefore,  waited  with  the  deepest 
anxiety  the  arrival  of  Count  de  Grasse.  He  dispatched  to 
General  Forman,  at  Monmouth,  a  letter  to  the  Count,  writ- 
ten in  Rochambeau's  cypher,  with  directions  to  keep  cease- 
less watch  on  the  heights,  and  the  moment  the  fleet  hove 
in  sight  to  proceed  on  board  and  deliver  it. 

In  the  meantime  affairs  in  the  South  were  assuming  a 
more  favorable  aspect.  Greene  had  handed  Cornwallis  over 
to  Lafayette,  and  this  gallant  young  commander,*  on  the 
very  day  that  the  French  army,  under  Rochambeau,  marched 
with  flying  colors  into  the  camp  of  Washington  at  Dobbs' 
Ferry,  fought  the  battle  of  Green  Spring,  in  which  he  and 
Wayne  showed  themselves  worthy  of  each  other  and  the 
trust  committed  to  them.  The  next  night  Cornwallis,  re- 
treating before  "the  boy"  whom  he  contemptuously  declared 
could  not  "  escape"  him,  passed  James'  river  and  afterward 
proceeded  to  Portsmouth.  Here  he  received  orders  to  take 
a  position  on  the  Chesapeake  which  could  serve  as  the  basis 
of  future  operations.  Selecting  Yorktown  as  the  most  se- 
cure and  favorable,  he  moved  his  forces  thither  and  began 


*This  noble  stranger,  when  he  arrived  in  Baltimore,  found  the  troops  badly 
clothed,  discontented,  and  averse  to  returning  South.  Immediately  borrowing  ten 
thousand  dollars  on  his  own  credit,  he  expended  them  in  shirts,  shoes,  etc.,  for  the 
soldiers,  which  so  touched  their  hearts,  that  their  murmurings  and  complaints 
gave  place  to  enthusiasm  and  love,  and  they  closed  around  him  like  veterans. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  383 

to  entrench  himself.  By  the  23d  of  August  his  army  was 
concentrated  and  well  secured. 

The  constant  success  of  his  favorite  and  friend,  gratified 
Washington  exceedingly,  who  was  afraid,  in  case  of  any  dis- 
aster, that  he  would  be  blamed  for  putting  so  young  and 
inexperienced  a  commander  into  the  field  against  one  of  the 
best  tacticians  and  most  accomplished  generals  of  the  age. 

While  Cornwallis,  was  employed  in  erecting  fortifications 
(Aug.  14th,)  Washington  received  a  letter  from  Count  de 
Grasse,  in  St.  Domingo,  stating  that  he  was  about  to  sail 
with  his  entire  fleet,  and  some  three  thousand  troops,  for 
the  Chesapeake,  but  could  not  remain  later  than  the  middle 
of  October. 

After  a  brief  consultation  with  Rochambeau,  it  was  de- 
cided to  be  very  doubtful  whether  New  York  could  be  re- 
duced within  that  period,  and  that  Virginia  furnished  the 
only  field  promising  immediate  success.  They  resolved 
therefore  to  march  thither  without  delay.  Every  effort, 
however,  was  made  to  deceive  Sir  Henry  Clinton  respecting 
the  change  of  plan.  Boats  were  gathered  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  New  York — ovens  built  and  forage  collected,  as  if 
in  preparation  for  a  thorough  investment  of  the  city — false 
communications,  sent  for  the  purpose  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy,  corroborated  this  external  evidence, 
and  Clinton  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  to  be  the  object  of 
attack.  Washington  took  great  pains  to  deceive  his  own 
troops  also,  knowing,  as  he  said,  "  where  the  imposition 
does  not  completely  take  place  at  home  it  would  never  suf- 
ficiently succeed  abroad."  He  informed  Barras  at  Newport 
of  his  intentions,  and  requested  him  to  sail  immediately  for 
the  Chesapeake,  but  the  latter  had  an  enterprise  of  his  own 
on  foot  against  Newfoundland,  besides,  being  senior  in  rank 
to  the  Count  de  Grasse,  he  did  not  wish  to  serve  under  him. 
At  the  earnest  remonstrance,  however,  of  both  Washington 
and  Rochambeau,  he  at  last  consented  to  go,  though  grum- 


384  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

lingly,  saying  it  was  the  last  expedition  he  would  ever 
undertake. 

Every  thing  being  ready,  the  combined  armies  struck 
their  camps  and  turned  the  heads  of  their  columns  south- 
ward. Twenty  regiments,  under  Heath,  were  left  to  guard 
the  Highlands.  The  American  army  crossed  the  Hudson  on 
the  21st — the  French  commenced  next  day,  completing  the 
passage  on  the  25th.  They  proceeded  by  different  routes 
to  Trenton,  where  they  formed  a  junction  and  moved  rapidly 
southward/  Washington  and  Rochainbeau  here  left  the 
armies  and  rode  on  to  Philadelphia,  to  provide  vessels  in 
which  to  transport  the  troops  from  Trenton  to  the  head  of 
the  Elk.  The  city  received  the  commander-in-chief  with 
acclamations,  and  as  he  passed  slowly  through  the  streets 
the  enthusiasm  broke  over  all  bounds,  and  the  clamor  of  the 
multitude  drowned  even  the  clang  of  bells  and  thunder  of 
artillery. 

But  only  boats  enough  could  be  procured  to  carry  a  single 
regiment,  and  the  main  army,  under  Lincoln,  continued  its 
march  by  land.  Passing  through  Philadelphia  it  was  fol- 
lowed by  almost  the  entire  population,  who  hailed  them 
with  exultant  shouts  and  invoked  blessings  on  their  heads. 
Heavy  rains  came  on,  and  through  the  wet  and  mire  the 
weary  suffering  troops  were  kept  to  the  top  of  their  endur- 
ance. The  French,  well  clad  and  well  fed,  suffered  but 
little,  while  the  destitute  Americans  presented  a  most  piti- 
able spectacle. 

Washington  had  written  to  Lafayette  announcing  his  de- 
parture, and  requesting  him  to  watch  Cornwallis  narrowly 
and  not  let  him  escape  into  the  Carolinas.  But  the  2d  of 
September  arriving  without  hearing  any  thing  from  Count 
de  Grasse,  who  was  to  have  sailed  on  the  3d  of  August,  or 
from  Barras,  who  had  notified  him  he  should  leave  Newport 
on  the  23d,  Washington  was  "  distressed  beyond  measure" 
The  English  fleet  might  occupy  the  Chesapeake  first,  and 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  387 

then  the  whole  plan  would  fall  through,  while  if  even  Bar- 
ras,  who  had  much  of  'the  heavy  siege  artillery  on  board, 
was  taken,  the  entire  aspect  of  affairs  might  be  changed. 
But  three  days  after,  the  joyful  intelligence  was  received  of 
the  safe  arrival  of  the  French  admiral  with  twenty-six  ships 
of  the  line  and  several  frigates.  The  army  was  electrified, 
while  the  French  officers  were  almost  delirious  with  joy. 
The  prospect  now  brightened,  and  the  threads  of  fate  were 
evidently  weaving  a  net  for  Cornwallis. 

The  two  armies  had  passed  the  Delaware  before  Clinton 
was  aware  of  their  destination.  He  then  dispatched  Arnold 
to  make  an  irruption  into  Connecticut,  and  threatened  an 
invasion  of  New  Jersey  and  an  attack  on  the  Highlands  to 
induce  Washington  to  halt.  But  the  latter  could  not  be 
turned  aside  from  the  great  object  on  which  he  had  set  his 
heart,  and  pressed  resolutely  and  swiftly  toward  its  accom- 
plishment. 

Cornwallis  saw  with  alarm  this  sudden  and  tremendous 
combination  designed  to  crush  him,  and  gazed  anxiously 
around  for  an  avenue  of  escape.  If  he  had  been  left  to  his 
own  resources  he  probably  would  have  made  a  desperate 
attempt  to  cleave  his  way  through  the  defenses  of  Lafayette 
and  escape  to  the  Carolinas.  From  his  known  energy  and 
skill  the  success  of  such  an  effort  might  not  have  been  so 
hopeless,  but  he  received  a  dispatch  from  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
promising  reinforcements  both  of  troops  and  ships.  Thus, 
the  second  time,  did  this  commander  lull  into  fatal  security 
one  of  his  lieutenants,  and  first  in  the  case  of  Burgoyne, 
and  now  in  that  of  Cornwallis,  make  certain  an  impending 
calamity. 

While  the  two  armies  were  pressing  southward  Washing- 
ton turned  aside,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  six  years,  visited 
his  home  at  Mount  Vernon. 

In  the  meantime  Count  de  Grasse  was  told  that  the  British 
fleet,  under  Admiral  Graves,  who  had  been  reinforced  from 


388  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

the  West  Indies,  was  in  pursuit  of  him  off  the  Chesapeake 
He  immediately  put  to  sea  and  offered  battle.     An  engage 
ment  followed,  but  without  any  decisive  result.     The  next 
day  the  English  admiral,  who  had  the  weather-guage,  de- 
clining to  renew  the  action,  De  Grasse  put  back  into  the 
Chesapeake,  where  to  his  great  joy  he  found  Barras  safely 
arrived. 

Washington,  as  soon  as  Rochambeau  joined  him,  conti- 
nued his  journey,  and  on  arriving  at  Williamsburg  heard  of 
the  return  of  the  French  fleet  and  the  junction  of  De  Bar- 
ras  with  it.    Every  thing  now  rested  on  the  dispatch  of  the 
troops,   and   Washington's    energies   were   roused    to   the 
utmost.    A  single  day's  delay  might  ruin  a  great  enterprise 
and  defer  indefinitely  the  independence  of  his  country.    He 
wanted  an  army  that  could  fly,  and  wrote  to  General  Lin- 
coln to  hurry  forward  the  "  troops  on  the  wings  of  speed." 
"Every  day  we  now  lose,"  said  he,  "is  comparatively  an  age" 
He  sent  a  messenger  to  the  Count  de  Grasse  for  boats  to  trans- 
port the  troops  by  water  from  Annapolis  and  the  head  of 
the  Elk,  but  the  French  admiral  had  anticipated  his  wants, 
and  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  fleet  of  trans- 
ports move   away  to  the  scene  of  operations.     He   then 
requested  an  interview  with  De  Grasse.     Accompanied  by 
Rochambeau,  Knox,  De  Chastellux  and  Du  Portail,  he  em- 
barked in  a  small  vessel  and  was  received  by  the  admiral 
with  distinguished  honors.     The  plan  of  attack  was  soon 
arranged,  and  Washington  returned  to  land.     In  the  mean- 
time Admiral  Digby  arrived  at  Sandy  Hook  with  a  reinforce- 
ment of  vessels.     De  Grasse  was  no  sooner  informed  of  this 
than  he  resolved  to  put  to  sea  and  give  the  enemy  battle. 
When   this  astounding   intelligence   was  communicated  to 
Washington  he  could  not  conceal  his  anxiety.     He  immedi- 
ately wrote  a  letter  to  the  count,  which  he  dispatched  by 
Lafayette,  who  he  knew  would  second  its  contents  with  all 
the  influence  he  possessed.    In  it  he  depicted  in  the  strong- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  389 

est  language  the  fatal  consequences  that  would  follow  such 
an  abandonment  of  the' land  forces,  declaring  that  it  might 
result  in  no  less  a  calamity  than  the  total  disbanding  of  the 
army.  At  all  events,  if  he  was  afraid  to  be  attacked  in  a 
stationary  position,  he  must  at  least  cruise  in  sight  of  the 
capes.  But  the  true  reason  with  De  Grasse  was,  not  that 
he  feared  to  be  attacked  at  anchor — he  wished  to  perform  a 
brilliant  action  in  which  the  glory  would  belong  to  himself 
alone — in  short,  to  capture  or  disperse  the  entire  English 
fleet,  and  thus  secure,  by  one  grand  coup,  the  overthrow  of 
both  the  British  armies,  and  put  an  end  to  the  war.  But 
for  fear  of  the  consequences  that  might  result  from  disre- 
garding the  firm  remonstrance  of  both  Washington  and  the 
French  commanders,  there  is  but  little  doubt  that  he  would 
have  insisted  on  executing  his  brilliant  project,  and  thus 
overthrown  the  whole  campaign,  and  put  far  off  the  day  of 
peace.  He,  however,  consented  to  remain ;  though,  it  is 
said,  that  Washington,  afraid  to  trust  to  his  steadiness  of 
purpose,  sent  Hamilton  to  him  during  the  siege,  who, 
passing  in  an  open  boat  by  night,  had  an  interview  with 
him  to  strengthen  his  determination. 

Cornwallis  at  this  time  was  at  the  head  of  more  than 
7000  troops,  which  were  concentrated  mostly  in  Yorktown, 
containing  at  that  time  about  sixty  houses.  A  few  occupied 
Gloucester,  on  the  opposite  side  of  York  river. 

The  allied  armies,  nearly  sixteen  thousand  strong,  took 
up  their  line  of  march  from  Williamsburg  on  the  28th  of 
September,  at  5  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  advancing  by 
different  routes  toward  Yorktown,  arrived  in  view  of  the  ene- 
my's lines  at  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Cornwallis  watched 
their  approach  through  his  glass  with  feelings  of  the  most 
painful  anxiety.  At  the  first  departure  of  De  Grasse  to  give 
Admiral  Graves  battle,  and  afterward  as  the  distant  cannon- 
ide  of  the  hostile  fleets  broke  over  the  sea,  hope  reanimated 
lis  heart.  But  now  as  he  saw  the  French  fleet  quietly  riding 

21 


390  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

at  anchor  in  rear  of  his  works,  while  this  overwhelming 
force  slowly  and  steadily  took  up  its  position  in  front,  his 
heart  sunk  within  him.  Washington,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
the  declining  sunbeams  streamed  over  the  long  lines  of  glit- 
tering bayonets,  and  polished  pieces  of  the  French  artillery, 
as,  with  strains  of  martial  music,  the  steady  columns  one 
after  another  deployed  on  the  field,  and  saw  far  away  the 
peaks  of  the  French  ships  of  war,  tipped  with  light,  felt 
that  the  hour  of  triumph  had  come,  and  a  glorious  victory 
was  in  reserve  for  his  country. 

The  next  day  the  morning  reveille  beat  cheerily  through 
the  allied  camp,  and  soon  the  field  presented  a  brilliant 
spectacle,  as  the  French  on  the  left  and  the  Americans  on 
the  right  advanced,  and  extending  in  a  semicircle  entirely 
round  the  enemy's  works  to  the  river  on  either  side,  com- 
pleted the  investment.  The  British  then  retired  from  their 
advanced  works,  leaving  two  redoubts  undamaged  within 
cannon  shot  of  their  fortifications.  The  succeeding  day  the 
allied  troops  took  possession  of  the  neglected  works,  the 
French  occupying  the  two  redoubts,  while  the  Americans 
broke  ground  for  two  new  ones  on  the  right.  In  the  mean- 
time the  heavy  siege  guns  were  hurried  forward.  On  the 
morning  of  the  1st  of  October,  the  British  seeing  the  re- 
doubts begun  by  the  Americans,  directed  their  artillery 
upon  them,  and  a  heavy  cannonade  was  kept  up  all  day  and 
night.  For  three  days  and  nights  the  deep  reverberations 
of  their  guns  shook  the  field,  and  swept  far  out  over  the 
deep,  but  not  a  shot  replied.  The  stroke  of  the  spade  and 
pickaxe,  as  the  earth  was  thrown  up  to  form  the  redoubts — 
the  confused  hum  of  workmen  erecting  tents,  and  shops, 
and  ovens,  and  unloading  baggage  and  provisions — the 
heavy  rumbling  of  artillery  wagons  as  the  long  line  of 
teams  stretched  over  the  uneven  ground — and  the  stern  or- 
ders of  officers,  were  the  only  sounds  that  rose  from  the 
allied  armies.  In  the  centre,  where  they  met  as  they  swept 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  391 

up  in  a  semicircle  from  the  river,  Rochambeau  and  Wash- 
ington stationed  themselves,  and  here,  too,  was  drawn  up 
the  artillery. 

By  the  6th  of  October,  every  thing  was  ready  to  com- 
mence the  approaches,  and,  as  an  omen  of  good,  Washing- 
ton that  very  day  received  the  cheering  intelligence  of 
Greene's  victory  at  Eutaw  Springs.  The  night  came  on 
dark  and  stormy,  and  amid  the  driving  rain,  unheard  in  the 
roar  of  the  blast  by  the  British  sentinels,  six  regiments  un- 
der the  command  of  Lincoln,  Clinton,  and  Wayne,  opened 
the  first  parallel  within  five  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the 
British  works  on  the  right.  The  men  were  pushed  vigor- 
ously all  night,  and  by  morning  were  well  covered  from  the 
guns  of  the  fortifications.  Up  to  this  time  the  French  and 
Americans  had  lost  in  all  but  one  officer  and  sixteen  pri- 
vates, killed  and  wounded.  The  next  two  days  the  enemy 
fired  but  little,  and  the  parallel  was  completed.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  9th,  the  French  had  established  one  bat- 
tery of  four  twelve  pounders  and  six  mortars  and  howitzers, 
and  the  Americans  another  of  six,  eighteen  and  twenty -four 
pounders,  and  four  mortars  and  howitzers.  Washington 
then  rode  up  an  eminence,  and  through  his  glass  took  a  long 
and  careful  survey  of  the  enemy's  works  and  his  own  bat- 
teries. Apparently  satisfied  he  closed  his  glass,  and  waved 
his  hand  as  a  signal.  The  next  moment  the  French  battery 
opened,  and  two  hours  after  the  American  blended  in  its 
thunder  on  the  right,  and  the  first  act  of  the  tragedy  com- 
menced. All  night  long  thunder  answered  thunder,  echoing 
over  land  and  sea. 

The  next  day  two  more  French  batteries,  mounting  in  all 
twenty  heavy  cannon  and  mortars,  and  two  American,  of 
six  guns,  making  twenty-six  pieces,  were  put  in  operation. 
Forty-six  guns  had  now  concentrated  their  destructive  fire 
on  the  limited  works  of  the  British,  and  it  rained  a  horrible 
tempest  of  shot  and  shells  upon  Cornwallis.  It  was  impos- 


392  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

sible  to  withstand  such  a  tremendous  fire,  and  the  enemy 
were  soon  compelled  to  withdraw  their  guns  from  the  em- 
brasures behind  the  merlins — and  for  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  without  firing  scarcely  a  single  shot,  they  sat  silent  and 
sullen  within  their  works,  and  took  with  calm  sternness  the 
terrible  pelting. 

As  night  drew  on  and  darkness  slowly  settled  over  the 
landscape,  the  scene  became  terrifically  grand.  The  hea- 
vens were  illuminated  with  red  hot  shot  and  blazing  bombs, 
as  they  stooped  on  their  fiery  track  into  the  doomed  gar- 
rison, while  the  deep  silence  out  of  which  the  explosions 
came,  added  to  the  solemn  terror  of  the  spectacle.  These 
messengers  of  destruction  passed  also  over  the  town  and 
dropped  amid  the  shipping  beyond,  kindling  into  conflagra- 
tion four  large  transports  and  a  forty -four  gun  ship.*  "The 
ships  were  enwrapped  in  a  torrent  of  fire,  which  spreading 
with  vivid  brightness  among  the  combustible  rigging,  and 
running  with  amazing  rapidity  to  the  tops  of  the  several 
masts,  while  all  around  was  thunder  and  lightning  from  our 
numerous  cannon  and  mortars,  and  in  the  darkness  of  night 
presented  one  of  the  most  sublime  and  magnificent  specta- 
cles which  can  be  imagined.  Some  of  our  shells  overreach- 
ing the  town  were  seen  to  fall  into  the  river,  and  bursting, 
threw  up  columns  of  water,  like  the  spouting  monsters  of 
the  deep."f 

The  firing  continued  all  the  next  day,  (the  llth)  and  at 
night  a  second  parallel  was  commenced  within  three  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  enemy's  works,  and  in  two  days  was 
nearly  completed. 

Cornwallis  still  held  two  redoubts,  which  stood  in  advance 
of  his  works  on  the  left,  and  from  which  he  could  enfilade 
this  second  parallel.  After  a  brief  consultation  it  was  re- 
solved, therefore,  to  storm  them.  To  incite  the  rivalry  of 

*The  Oberon.  fVide  Thatcher's  Military  Journal. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

the  troops,  the  storming  of  one  was  intrusted  to  the  French, 
under  Baron  de  Viomenil,  and  the  other  to  the  Americans, 
under  Lafayette.  The  French  baron,  while  preparing  for 
the  assault,  hinted  to  Lafayette  that  he  was  rather  unfortu- 
nate in  his  command,  as  the  American  troops  were  not  so 
reliable  as  French  in  work  of  this  kind.  Lafayette,  who 
had  come  to  look  on  the  Americans  as  peculiarly  belonging 
to  him,  was  stung  by  the  remark,  but  quietly  replied,  "  we 
shall  see."  Toward  evening  the  storming  columns  were 
drawn  up  and  marched  to  their  respective  positions.  Two 
shells  were  to  be  the  signal  to  advance.  The  shell  from  the 
American  battery  rose  first,  but  it  had  scarcely  reached  the 
zenith  in  its  blazing  track,  before,  in  another  direction,  that 
of  the  French  mounted  the  heavens.  The  next  moment 
the  loud  shout  "  FORWARD"  rang  along  the  ranks.  Colonel 
Hamilton  led  the  van  of  the  Americans,  and  carried  away 
by  his  boiling  courage,  strode  in  advance  of  his  men,  and 
scorning  to  wait  till  the  abatis  was  removed,  mounted  over 
it,  and  on  the  parapet  beyond,  with  but  three  men  at  his 
side.  Waving  his  sword  to  his  brave  followers  crowding 
fiercely  after  him,  with  leveled  bayonets,  he  shouted  "  On  ! 
on  /"  and  leaped  into  the  ditch.  A  thrilling  "  huzza  /"  re- 
plied, and  soon  the  enemy  were  flying  in  every  direction. 
Not  a  shot  had  been  fired — the  cold  steel  had  finished  the 
work,  and  in  nine  minutes'  time.  As  the  loud  and  ringing 
cheer  rose  on  the  evening  air,  the  delighted  Lafayette  turned 
to  the  other  redoubt,  and  knowing  by  the  sharp  firing  that 
it  was  not  yet  carried,  and  remembering  the  sneer  of  Vio- 
menil, dispatched  a  messenger  to  that  officer,  saying  that 
his  own  redoubt  was  carried,  and  asking  if  he  needed  any 
help.  "  Tell  Lafayette,"  proudly  replied  the  Baron,  "  that 
my  redoubt  will  be  carried  in  five  minutes."  He  made  good 
his  word,  and  soon  cheer  answered  cheer,  and  the  French 
and  American  flags  waved  a  salutation  to  each  other  across 
the  intervening  space.  The  loss  of  the  Americans  was  only 


394  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

sixty-five  killed  and  wounded,  while  that  of  the  French 
was  over  a  hundred.  The  latter  stopped  to  remove  the 
abatis. 

The  possession  of  these  redoubts  were  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance, for,  besides  being  relieved  from  their  flank  fire, 
Washington  with  batteries  erected  there  could  enfilade  the 
whole  English  line. 

The  girdle  of  fire  was  now  narrowing  to  a  fatal  interval, 
and  even  desperate  measures  must  be  resorted  to,  or  the 
tragedy  would  close.  Cornwallis  therefore  determined,  it  is 
said,  to  leave  his  sick  and  baggage  behind,  and  crossing 
over  to  Gloucester,  cut  up  by  an  unexpected,  impetuous  as- 
sault, the  French  and  American  troops  stationed  there — 
mount  what  he  could  of  his  infantry  on  the  horses  of  the 
Duke's  Legion  and  others  which  he  might  be  able  to  seize, 
and  fleeing  through  Maryland,  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jer- 
sey, gain  New  York.  This  absurd  attempt,  if  ever  really 
intended,  was  cut  short  by  a  sudden  storm  of  wind  and  rain, 
which  rendered  the  passage  of  the  river  impracticable. 

Toward  morning  of  this  same  night,  Cornwallis  made  a 
sortie  with  800  men  on  the  incomplete  French  batteries, 
and  carried  them,  but  the  Due  de  Chastellux  advancing  to 
their  support,  drove  the  assailants  back.  The  latter  suc- 
ceeded in  spiking  four  cannon,  but  having  time  to  do  it  only 
by  ramming  the  points  of  their  bayonets  into  the  touch- 
holes  and  then  breaking  them  off,  the  pieces  were  soon  ren- 
dered serviceable  again.  At  daylight  new  batteries  in  the 
second  parallel  were  opened,  when  there  was  not  a  spot 
within  the  town  unexposed  to  the  desolating  fire  of  the  be- 
siegers. The  buildings  were  pierced  like  a  honey-comb — 
the  earth  rose  in  furrows  and  mounds  on  every  side  as  the 
heavy  shot  and  shells  ploughed  through,  while  carcases  of 
men  and  horses  were  strewn  amid  the  broken  artillery  car 
riages  and  wrecks  of  the  works.  In  short,  the  camp  was 
completely  uncovered,  and  cannon  balls  searched  every  part 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  395 

of  it.  The  English  troops  stood  in  still  despair  and  let  the 
iron  storm  beat  on  them.  Cornwallis  had  hoped  for  succor 
to  the  last,  but  this  useless  sacrifice  of  his  men  was  too 
dreadful  to  be  longer  endured,  and  at  10  o'clock  the  loud 
beat  of  the  chamade  was  heard  in  the  intervals  of  the  explo- 
sions of  cannon,  and  the  firing  ceased.  Cornwallis  then  sent 
a  flag  of  truce  requesting  a  cessation  of  hostilities  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  to  arrange  the  terms  of  capitulation.  To  this 
Washington  would  not  consent,  fearing  that  the  arrival  of 
the  English  fleet  in  the  meantime  might  alter  the  aspect  of 
affairs,  and  allowed  him  but  two  hours  in  which  to  transmit 
his  proposals.  A  rough  draft  was  sent,  and  the  next  day 
the  terms  of  capitulation  were  agreed  upon.  On  the  18th, 
the  garrison,  with  colors  cased  and  playing  a  melancholy 
march,  moved  slowly  out  of  their  dilapidated  works.  The 
French  and  American  armies  were  drawn  up  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  road,  with  Rochambeau  and  Washington,  splen- 
didly mounted,  at  the  respective  heads  of  the  columns,  while 
the  fields  around  were  black  with  thousands  of  spectators, 
who  had  heard  of  the  victory,  and  flocked  hither  to  see  the 
army  and  the  man  who  had  so  long  been  the  terror  of  the 
country.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  deep  silence  that  had  set- 
tled on  the  field  save  the  measured  tread  of  the  slowly 
advancing  thousands  and  the  mournful  air  of  their  bands. 
Cornwallis,  wishing  to  be  spared  the  mortification  of  the 
scene,  feigned  sickness  and  was  allowed  to  remain  in  his 
quarters.  In  his  absence,  General  O'Harra  advanced  and 
offered  the  sword  of  his  commander  to  Washington.  The 
latter  directed  him  to  Lincoln,  who  so  recently  had  been 
compelled  to  surrender  his  own  at  Charleston.  The  latter 
received  and  immediately  returned  it  to  the  officer.  Twenty- 
eight  British  captains  then  advanced  with  sad  countenances 
and  surrendered  the  twenty-eight  flags  of  the  army.  En- 
sign Wilson,  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  was  appointed  to 
receive  them.  The  whole  army  then  laid  down  their  arms, 


396  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

and  the  humiliating  ceremony  was  over.  Over  seven  thou- 
sand men,  with  their  arms,  seventy-five  brass  and  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  iron  cannon,  twenty-eight  standards*  with 
all  the  ammunition  and  stores,  and  the  entire  shipping,  were 
the  fruits  of  this  victory. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  Washington  ordered 
divine  service  in  each  of  the  brigades  of  the  American  army. 

The  news  of  this  glorious  victory  flew  like  lightning  over 
the  land.  Washington  dispatched  at  once  one  of  his  aids* 
to  Congress,  then  sitting  in  Philadelphia.  The  swift  rider 
dashed  on  a  gallop  into  the  city  at  midnight — the  clatter  of 
his  horse's  hoofs  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  silence  of 
the  deserted  streets,  as  he  pressed  straight  for  the  house  of 
McKean,  then  president  of  Congress.  Thundering  at  the 
door  as  though  he  would  force  an  entrance,  he  roused  the 
sleeping  president,  saying,  "Cornwallis  is  taken!"  The 
watchmen  caught  the  words,  and  when  they  called  "  one 
o'clock,"  they  added,  "and  Cornwallis  is  taken!"  As  they 
moved  slowly  on  their  nightly  rounds,  windows  were  flung 
open  and  eager  countenances  were  seen  scanning  the  streets. 
A  hum,  like  that  of  an  awakening  hive,  immediately  per- 
vaded the  city.  The  inhabitants  went  pouring  into  the 
streets,  while  shout  after  shout  rose  on  the  midnight  air. 
The  old  bellman  was  roused  from  his  slumbers,  and  soon 
the  iron  tongue  of  the  bell  at  the  state-house  rung  out  as 
of  old,  "PROCLAIM  LIBERTY  THROUGHOUT  ALL  THE  LAND  TO  ALL 
THE  INHABITANTS  THEREOF."  The  dawn  was  greeted  with  the 
booming  of  cannon ;  and  salvos  of  artillery,  and  shouts  of 
joy,  and  tears  of  thanksgiving,  accompanied  the  glad  news 
as  it  traveled  exultingly  over  the  land.  It  is  impossible,  at 
this  day,  to  conceive  the  wild,  ecstatic  joy  with  which  it 
was  received. 

Not  so  in  England.    It  had  been  sent  by  a  French  frigate, 

•*  Colonel  Tilorhman. 


.  /  /  1*     I 

- 


jiml  lyoe  nt  Monmoutli. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON. 

and  as  if  the  winds  and  waves  were  anxious  to  waft  it  on, 
the  vessel  reached  France  in  eighteen  days.  Lord  Germain, 
Secretary  of  the  American  department,  received  it  in  Lon- 
don, on  Sunday  the  25th  of  November,  just  two  days  before 
Parliament  was  to  meet.  Lord  Walsingham,  who  had  been 
selected  to  second  the  address  in  the  house  of  Peers  on  the 
following  Tuesday,  happened  to  be  present  when  the  official 
intelligence  arrived.  Lord  Germain  immediately  called  a 
hackney  coach,  and  taking  Lord  Walsingham  with  him,  pro- 
ceeded to  Lord  Stormount's  in  Portland  Place.  The  three 
then  hastened  to  the  Lord  Chancellor's,  when,  after  a  brief 
consultation,  they  decided  to  go  at  once  and  present  the  in- 
telligence to  Lord  North  in  person.  They  reached  his  house 
between  one  and  two  o'clock.  The  dreadful  tidings  com- 
pletely unmanned  the  stern  prime  minister.  When  asked, 
afterward,  how  he  took  it,  Lord  Germain  replied,  "As  he 
would  a  ball  in  his  breast.  For  he  opened  his  arms,  exclaim- 
ing wildly,  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the  apartment  during 
a  few  minutes,  'Oh,  God,  it  is  all  over!'  As  the  full  extent 
of  the  catastrophe  continued  to  press  on  him,  he  could  only 
repeat,  '  Oh,  God,  it  is  all  over — it  is  all  over  /' :  In  it  he 
saw  the  hand- writing  on  the  wall,  and  knew  that  the  hour 
of  his  overthrow  had  come.  At  length  he  became  more 
composed,  and  the  four  ministers  began  to  discuss  the  mat- 
ter seriously.  They  concluded  it  would  be  impossible  to 
prorogue  Parliament  for  a  few  days,  and  the  first  thing  to 
be  attended  to,  therefore,  was  the  alteration  of  the  King's 
speech,  which  had  already  been  prepared.  Lord  Germain 
then  sent  a  dispatch  to  the  king,  George  III.,  at  Kew.  Sir 
N.  W.  Wraxall,  who  dined  with  Lord  Germain  that  day, 
says  that  the  first  news  was  publicly  communicated  at  the 
table.  All  were  anxious  to  hear  how  the  king  bore  it, 
when  Lord  Germain  read  aloud  his  reply.  It  was  calm 
and  composed,  bearing  no  marks  of  agitation,  except,  as 
Lord  Germain  remarked,  "1  observe  that  the  king  has 


400  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

omitted  to  mark  the  hour  and  minute  of  his  writing  with 
his  usual  precision." 

The  opening  of  Parliament  was  the  signal  for  the  on- 
slaught of  the  opposition.  This  humiliation  of  the  British 
arms  furnished  them  the  occasion  and  material  for  the  most 
terrible  invective.  Fox,  and  Burke,  and  the  younger  Pitt, 
came  down  with  the  swoop  of  the  eagle  on  Lord  North. 
The  stern  minister,  however,  bore  proudly  up  for  awhile 
against  the  storm,  but  was  at  last  compelled  to  bow  before 
its  force. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  401 


CHAPTER 

Sickness  and  Death  of  young  Custis — Departure  of  the  French  Fleet — Destination 
of  the  Troops — Circular  Letter  to  the  States — Lincoln  Secretary  of  War — Greene 
around  Charleston — Head-quarters  at  Newburgh — The  Temple— Case  of  Captain 
Huddy  and  Captain  Asgill — Defeat  of  the  English  Ministry — Proposal  to  make 
Washington  King — Settlement  of  the  Case  of  young  Asgill — Meeting  of  French 
and  American  Troops  at  King's  Ferry — Destitution  of  the  Officers — Washing- 
ton's Views  on  the  Subject — "Newburgh  Addresses" — Proclamation  of  Peace — • 
Washington  addresses  a  Circular  Letter  to  the  States — Visits  Northern  Battle 
Fields — Disbanding  of  the  Army — Evacuation  of  New  York — Farewell  to  the 
Officers — Washington  Surrenders  his  Commission  to  Congress — His  Feelings  on 
laying  down  Power — Visits  his  Land  West — Improves  his  Farm — Interview 
with  Lafayette,  and  Letter  to  him  after  his  Departure — His  Habits  of  Life — 
Inefficiency  of  Congress — Washington's  Views  and  Feelings  respecting  it — Soci- 
ety of  the  Cincinnati — Convention  called  to  form  a  Constitution — Washington 
chosen  President — The  Constitution — Washington  elected  First  President  of  the 
United  States. 

WHILE  Yorktown  was  yet  ringing  to  the  acclamations  of 
the  allied  armies,  Washington  received  a  blow  which  made 
him  for  a  time  forget  even  the  glorious  victory  which  he 
had  achieved.  The  only  child  of  his  wife,  and  beloved  by 
him  like  an  own  son,  had  been  from  the  commencement  of 
the  war  his  aid-de-camp.  The  mother's  heart  was  wrapped 
up  in  that  youth,  and  often  in  battle  his  safety  lay  nearer 
the  father's  heart  than  his  own.  He  rode  by  the  chieftain's 
side  during  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  and  saw  with  pride  and 
exultation  the  British  army  march  forth  and  lay  down  its 
arms.  But  this  victor}^  cost  him  his  life.  While  the  balls 
of  the  allied  troops  were  demolishing  the  enemy's  entrench- 
ments without  the  camp,  fever  was  desolating  frightfully 
within.  To  this  disease  young  Custis  fell  a  victim.  Imme- 
diately after  he  was  attacked  by  it,  Washington  directed 
him  to  be  removed  to  Eltham  in  New  Kent,  whither  he  was 
accompanied  by  his  mother  and  Dr.  Craik,  the  old  family 
physician.  The  disease  made  frightful  progress,  and  it  was 
soon  apparent  that  nothing  could  save  him.  A  messenger 


402  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

was  immediately  dispatched  to  Torktown  with  the  melan- 
choly tidings.  He  arrived  in  the  night.  Instantly  mount- 
ing his  horse,  taking  with  him  but  one  officer,  Washington 
started  for  the  sick-bed  of  the  sufferer.  The  two  solitary 
horsemen  galloped  silently  and  swiftly  forward,  and  just  as 
day  was  breaking,  reached  the  house  where  the  young  aid 
lay  dying.  Summoning  Dr.  Craik,  Washington  eagerly  asked, 
" Is  there  any  hope  ?"  The  doctor  shook  his  head.  He  im- 
mediately retired  into  a  private  room  where  his  wife  joined 
him,  and  the  two  remained  for  a  long  time  closeted  toge- 
ther. Washington,  with  the  tears  of  grief  still  depicted  on 
his  countenance,  then  remounted  his  horse  and  rode  back 
to  camp. 

He  had  been  exceedingly  anxious  to  enlist  the  Count 
de  Grasse  in  an  expedition  against  Charleston,  but  the  or- 
ders of  the  latter  forbade  his  compliance.  An  attempt  to 
obtain  the  use  of  the  troops  for  nearer  service  was  equally 
unsuccessful.  Finding  the  fleet  was  about  to  set  sail,  Wash- 
ington went  on  board  the  admiral's  vessel  to  pay  his  re- 
spects and  express  his  thanks  to  the  Count,  to  whom  also 
he  presented  two  superb  horses. 

The  latter  having  at  length  re-embarked  that  portion  of 
the  troops  commanded  by  the  Marquis  St.  Simon,  sailed  for 
the  West  Indies.  Two  thousand  Continentals  under  St.  Clair 
were  dispatched  to  the  aid  of  Greene  in  the  South,  while 
the  remainder,  under  Lincoln,  embracing  those  north  of 
Pennsylvania,  marched  to  their  winter  quarters  in  New  Jer- 
sey— the  light  troops  of  New  York  joining  their  respective 
regiments  in  the  Highlands.  The  French  under  Rocham- 
beau  remained  in  Virginia,  the  head-quarters  of  the  latter 
being  at  Williamsburg.  The  prisoners  being  marched  to 
Winchester,  Virginia  and  Freclericktown,  Maryland,  Lord 
Cornwallis  and  the  principal  British  officers  went  on  parole 
to  New  York.  Washington  repaired  to  Philadelphia  to  con 
suit  with  Congress  on  the  measures  necessary  to  be  adopted 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  403 

xbr  the  next  campaign.  Lafayette  in  the  meantime  and 
many  other  French  officers,  had  obtained  leave  to  return  to 
France,  carrying  back  with  them  the  warmest  feelings  of 
love  and  admiration  for  Washington. 

Notwithstanding  the  disasters  that  had  befallen  the  Bri- 
tish army,  there  were  no  indications  that  the  government 
intended  to  relax  its  efforts  to  reduce  the  colonies.  But 
fearing  such  would  be  the  impression  of  the  different  States, 
causing  them  to  put  forth  less  energy,  Washington,  in  con- 
sultation with  Congress,  issued  two  circular  letters  to  them — 
one  asking  for  supplies,  and  the  other  stating  the  condition 
and  prospects  of  the  army.  Said  he,  "  The  broken  and  per- 
plexed state  of  the  enemy's  affairs,  and  the  successes  of  the 
last  campaign  on  our  part,  ought  to  be  a  powerful  incitement 
to  vigorous  preparation  for  the  next.  Unless  we  strenuously 
exert  ourselves  to  profit  by  these  successes,  we  shall  not 
only  lose  all  the  solid  advantages  that  might  be  derived 
from  them,  but  we  shall  become  contemptible  in  our  own 
eyes,  in  the  eyes  of  our  enemy,  in  the  opinion  of  posterity, 
and  even  in  the  estimation  of  the  whole  world,  which  will 
consider  us  a  nation  unworthy  of  prosperity,  because  we 
know  not  how  to  make  a  right  use  of  it."  Notwithstanding 
all  his  efforts,  however,  there  was  a  general  belief  that  the 
war  was  virtually  over.  Still  the  government  did  not  act 
on  this  basis.  Money  was  sought  from  France,  General 
Lincoln  was  appointed  Secretary  of  War  to  give  greater 
energy  and  efficiency  to  that  department,  and  every  effort 
made  to  put  the  nation  in  a  posture  to  renew  hostilities  the 
coming  spring. 

While  these  events  were  transpiring  at  Philadelphia, 
Greene,  with  his  suffering,  half  clad  army,  was  gathering 
closer  and  closer  round  the  enemy  in  Charleston.  The  Bri- 
tish general,  however,  maintained  his  position  till  the  next 
autumn,  when,  despairing  of  help,  he  at  length  agreed  to 
evacuate  the  place  and  on  the  14th  of  December  marched 


404  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

his  troops  to  the  ships,  pursued  close  by  the  column  of 
Wayne.  A  short  time  previous  to  this,  the  gallant  Laurens 
was  killed  in  resisting  a  foraging  party. 

Washington  having  spent  the  winter  in  constant  and  ar- 
duous correspondence,  repaired  in  the  middle  of  April  to  the 
camp  at  Morristown,  and  a  few  days  after  continued  his 
journey,  and  took  up  his  quarters  at  Newburgh.* 

An  event  happened  at  this  time  which  exasperated  the 
inhabitants  of  the  colonies  greatly,  and  filled  Washington 
with  the  deepest  indignation.  Captain  Huddy,  commanding 
a  small  detachment  in  Monmouth  county,  New  Jersey,  was 
seized  by  a  party  of  refugees  and  taken  to  New  York.  A 
few  days  after,  he  was  dragged  from  prison,  and  carried  by 
Captain  Lippincott,  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  refugees,  to 
Middletown,  and  there  hung.  This  gallant  officer,  unmoved 
by  the  brutality  and  ribaldry  of  his  enemies,  met  his  fate 
with  perfect  composure.  Washington,  acting  under  the  de- 
cision of  a  Council  of  War,  immediately  wrote  to  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  demanding  that  Lippincott  should  be  given  up. 
The  British  general  refusing  to  comply  with  the  demand,  it 
was  determined  to  execute  an  English  prisoner  of  equal 
rank.  Lots  being  drawn  by  the  officers,  a  young  man,  only 
nineteen  years  of  age,  named  Captain  Asgill,  was  designated 
as  the  victim.  The  extreme  youth  of  this  officer  rendered 
it  still  more  painful  for  Washington  to  adhere  to  his  original 
determination.  Previous  to  his  ascertaining  who  was  to  be 
the  sufferer  he  had  said,  "Keenly  wounded  as  my  feelings  will 
be,  at  the  deplorable  destiny  of  the  unhappy  victim,  no  gleam  of 
hope  can  arise  to  him  but  from  the  conduct  of  the  enemy  them- 
selves" And  again,  "I  will  receive  no  application,  nor 
answer  any  letter  on  the  subject,  which  does  not  inform  me 
that  ample  satisfaction  is  made  for  the  death  of  Captain 
Huddy  on  the  perpetrators  of  that  horrid  deed." 

*  The  building  he  occupied  has  been  retained  in  its  original  state,  and  is  now 
owned  by  the  State  of  New  York,  and  made  the  depository  of  relics  of  the  Revolution. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  405 

In  the  meantime  Sir  Guy  Carleton  arrived  in  New  York 
to  assume  the  command  in  place  of  Clinton.  Previous  to 
his  departure  great  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  aspect 
of  affairs  in  Parliament.  On  the  2d  of  March,  General 
Conway  introduced  a  resolution,  declaring  that  a  further 
prosecution  of  the  war  in  America  for  the  purpose  of  sub- 
duing the  colonies  was  impracticable.  The  Ministerial  party 
endeavored  to  dispose  of  this  by  a  motion  to  adjourn.  The 
House  divided,  when  the  ministry  was  found  to  be  in  a  mi- 
nority of  nineteen.  Conway  then  moved  that  an  address, 
based  on  that  resolution,  be  presented  to  his  Majesty.  The 
die  was  cast.  The  news  spread  like  the  wind,  and  in  a 
short  time  the  city  was  in  a  state  of  intense  excitement. 
Lord  Stormount,  anticipating  some  public  demonstration, 
"  wrote  to  the  lord  mayor  and  aldermen  to  prevent,  if  pos- 
sible, illuminations  in  the  city."  They  were  accordingly 
prevented  ;  but  in  the  gallery  on  the  top  of  the  Monument 
there  blazed  more  than  a  hundred  lamps.*  Long  and  loud 
acclamations  rent  the  air,  announcing  to  Lord  North  that 
the  hour  of  his  overthrow  had  come.  The  different  ambas 
sadors  from  the  various  courts  of  Europe  immediately  hur- 
ried off  expresses  to  announce  the  momentous  news.  The 
king's  reply  to  the  address  was  equivocal,  but  to  every  one 
acquainted  with  the  state  of  affairs  it  was  evident  that  the 
opposition  had  gained  a  permanent  ascendency.  On  the 
20th,  Lord  Surrey  made  a  formal  motion  respecting  the  re- 
moval of  ministers.  Lord  North  interrupted  him,  saying 
that  the  ministry  was  about  to  resign  their  duties.f  As  a 
last  desperate  expedient  to  retain  their  places,  the  Cabinet 

*  Vide  Journal  and  Letters  of  Curwen,  by  George  Atkinson  Ward,  page  336. 

t  It  was  on  •'  this  occasion  Lord  Surrey  happened  to  espy  Arnold  in  the  House, 
and  sent  him  a  message  to  depart,  threatening,  in  case  of  refusal,  to  move  for 
breaking  up  the  gallery ;  to  which  the  general  answered,  that  he  was  introduced 
there  by  a  member ;  to  which  Lord  Surrey  replied,  he  might,  under  that  condition, 
remain,  if  he  would  promise  never  to  enter  it  again — with  which  General  Arnold 
complied." — Vide  Curwen's  Journal  and  Letters  by  Mr.  Ward. 


406  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

proposed  a  dissolution  of  Parliament.  This  was  defeated 
by  Thurlowe,  the  Lord  High  Chancellor,  who,  with  a  virtue 
that  honored  him  more  than  his  office,  refused  to  affix  the 
seals  to  such  an  order. 

But  as  the  prospect  of  peace  brightened,  the  discontent 
and  murmurs  of  the  troops  increased.  A  long  season  of 
idleness  had  given  them  time  to  brood  over  and  discuss 
their  grievances,  while  they  saw  that  the  termination  of  the 
war  would  be  the  signal  of  their  dispersion  and  the  end  of 
their  power.  Moreover,  the  independence  of  the  country 
naturally  begat  questions  and  discussions  respecting  the 
form  of  government  to  be  adopted.  They  had  not  origin- 
ally taken  up  arms  against  a  monarchy,  but  against  its  op- 
pressive acts.  The  English  government  was  considered  by 
many  of  the  wisest  men  of  the  day  to  be  a  model  one,  and 
they  wished  only  to  see  its  like  adopted  by  their  country 
when  its  liberty  was  once  secured.  Besides,  the  most  tho- 
rough republicans  had  seen  quite  enough  of  the  government 
of  a  Congress.  It  had  lost  the  respect  of  both  civilians  and 
officers.  It  was  clear,  therefore,  that  a  head  was  needed. 
But  this  head  must  be  invested  with  power  sufficient  to  con- 
trol and  overrule  Congress  to  a  great  extent,  or  it  would  not 
possess  the  efficiency  required  to  coerce  obedience.  Circum- 
stances, of  course,  indicated  Washington  as  that  head,  and 
the  next  question  naturally  arose — under  what  title  should 
he  govern  ?  The  officers  around  Newburgh  called  meeting 
after  meeting,  and  warm  and  eager  discussions  evinced  the 
deep  interest  the  army  took  in  the  form  of  government  that 
should  be  adopted.  At  length  an  old  and  respected  officer, 
Colonel  Nicola,  was  empowered  to  sound  Washington  on  this 
delicate  point.  He,  therefore,  addressed  him  a  letter,  in 
which,  after  going  over  the  points  referred  to  above,  he,  in 
a  circuitous  manner,  at  length  succeeded  in  communicating 
the  plain  fact,  that  the  army  wished  him  to  be  "  KING." 
This  letter  took  Washington  by  surprise.  An  unexpected 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  407 

danger  had  arisen  before  him — an  abyss  suddenly  opened  at 
his  very  feet.  The  army  was  actually  assuming  the  control 
of  the  government — the  military  power  appointing  the 
civil.  And,  more  than  this,  disgusted  with  the  working  of 
republican  institutions,  it  was  thinking  seriously  of  setting 
up  a  king.  Washington  seemed  doomed  ever  to  wrestle 
with  evils.  No  sooner  did  one  disappear  before  his  wisdom 
or  strength,  than  from  an  unexpected  quarter  another  rose 
to  fill  him  with  grief  and  oppress  him  with  anxiety.  But 
he  never  seemed  to  despond,  and  nothing  exhibits  the 
grandeur  of  his  character  more  than  the  promptness  and 
courage  with  which  he  met  and  overcame  every  new  form 
of  danger.  But  not  in  the  darkest  hour  of  his  country — 
not  in  the  midst  of  his  starving,  naked,  dying  troops — not 
when  overborne  and  scattered  by  the  enemy — under  no 
blow  with  which  fate  had  yet  smitten  him,  did  his  heart  so 
sink  as  under  the  revelation  made  in  this  letter.  What ! 
become  a  king  over  a  free  people  who  had  struggled  so 
nobly  for  their  freedom — dash  to  earth  the  hopes  which  had 
borne  them  up  in  the  midst  of  such  trials  and  sufferings, 
and  wrong  so  deeply  human  faith,  and  confidence,  and 
rights,  as  turn  traitor  at  last  ?  To  hint  that  HE  was  capable 
of  such  turpitude,  was  striking  at  the  very  soul  of  honor. 
Pride,  grief,  resentment,  anxiety,  commingled  and  intense, 
swelled  his  bosom.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  in  reply,  "  with  a  mix- 
ture of  great  surprise  and  astonishment,  I  have  read  with 
attention  the  sentiments  you  have  submitted  to  my  perusal. 
Be  assured,  sir,  no  occurrence  in  the  course  of  the  war  has 
given  me  more  painful  sensations  than  your  information  of 
there  being  such  ideas  existing  in  the  army  as  you  have 
expressed,  and  as  I  must  view  with  abhorrence  and  repre- 
hend with  severity.  For  the  present  the  communication  of 
them  will  rest  in  my  own  bosom,  unless  some  further  agita- 
tion of  the  matter  shall  make  a  disclosure  necessary. 

"  I  am  much  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  part  of  my  conduct 

22 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

could  have  given  encouragement  to  an  address,  which  to  me 
seems  big  with  the  greatest  mischiefs  that  can  befall  my 
country.  If  I  am  not  deceived  in  the  knowledge  of  myself, 
you  could  not  have  found  a  person  to  whom  your  schemes 
are  more  disagreeable.  At  the  same  time,  in  justice  to  my 
own  feelings,  I  must  add,  that  no  man  possesses  a  more  sin- 
cere wish  to  see  ample  justice  done  to  the  army  than  I  do, 
and  as  far  as  my  powers  and  influence  in  a  constitu- 
tional way  extend,  they  shall  be  employed  to  the  utmost  of 
my  abilities  to  effect  it,  should  there  be  occasion.  Let  me 
conjure  you,  then,  if  you  have  any  regard  for  your  country, 
concern  for  yourself  or  posterity,  or  respect  for  me,  to  ban- 
ish those  thoughts  from  your  mind,  and  never  communicate 
as  from  yourself  or  any  one  else  a  sentiment  of  the  like 
nature." 

Every  line  of  this  letter  bears  indications  of  a  powerful 
internal  struggle — a  struggle  to  maintain  that  self-compo- 
sure and  moderation  he  was  wont  to  exhibit,  but  which,  un- 
der this  new  evil,  threatened  to  forsake  him.  Incomparable 
man !  intrenched  so  deeply  in  virtue  that  temptations  and 
the  arrows  of  misfortune  rebound  from  his  bosom  without 
even  leaving  the  mark  of  their  contact.  Yet  this  act  seems 
so  in  keeping  with  Washington's  whole  character  and  con- 
duct, that  it  hardly  strikes  us  as  extraordinary.  Virtues  we 
never  expect  to  find  in  others  we  should  be  surprised  not  to 
see  exhibited  in  him.  His  actions  are  all  so  elevated  above 
the  common  track  of  life,  that  it  would  disappoint  us  to  find 
any  one  of  them  tainted  with  the  imperfections  of  our 
lower  sphere.  So  harmonious  is  his  character  in  every  part, 
that  its  colossal  proportions  can  be  understood  only  by  com- 
paring him  in  detail  with  other  men  in  similar  circumstances. 

The  case  of  young  Asgill  continued  to  trouble  Washington 
exceedingly,  and  his  whole  correspondence  shows  a  constant 
and  severe  struggle  between  his  feelings  and  his  sense  of 
duty.  Sir  Guy  Carleton  finding,  however,  that  he  was  im- 


. 


•    -    "•/-.      "I  -•  ".  -•  "v 

'-  '        '-*,        •'   ', 

" 

' 


Moll  Pitcher  at  Moniionth. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  411 

movable  in  his  determination  to  sacrifice  the  young  man 
unless  justice  was  done  to  Lippincott,  had  the  latter  arrested 
and  tried  by  court  martial.  It  appeared,  or  was  made  to 
appear  on  trial,  that  the  latter  acted  under  the  authority  of 
the  "Board  of  Directors  of  the  Associated  Loyalists,"  and 
hence  was  not  personally  responsible.  This  transfer  of  guilt 
from  the  individual  to  a  body  or  corporation  has  always 
been  a  favorite  method  to  escape  responsibility.  Of  course, 
the  Board  of  Directors  could  not  be  hung — they  could  only 
be  disbanded,  which  was  done — a  task  not  demanding  very 
great  sacrifice  on  the  part  of  Sir  Guy  Carleton,  as  he  had  in 
his  pocket  the  power  to  make  a  treaty  of  peace  with  the 
colonies.  This  manoeuvre,  however,  complicated  the  mat- 
ter so  much  that  Washington  referred  it  again  to  Congress, 
which  seemed,  by  its  tardiness,  willing  to  let  death  claim  its 
victim  in  the  ordinary  way.  Washington  wrote  bitterly  of 
this  neglect  of  Congress,  declaring  that  his  own  treatment 
of  that  body  did  not  warrant  it,  and  justifies  himself  in 
making  the  complaint,  by  asking,  "  When  no  notice  is  taken 
of  my  application  ;  when  measures  I  might  otherwise  adopt 
are  suspended — when  my  own  feelings  are  wounded,  and 
others  are  perhaps  suffering  by  the  delay,  how  is  it  possible 
for  me  to  forbear  expressing  my  disquietude  ?" 

In  the  meantime,  young  AsgilPs  mother,  crushed  to  the 
earth  by  the  dreadful  fate  impending  over  her  only  son,  a 
mere  boy  in  years,  appealed,  with  all  a  mother's  tenderness 
and  earnestness,  to  the  French  ministry  to  intercede  with 
Washington  to  spare  his  life.  The  letter  was  shown  to  the 
king  and  queen,  who  were  so  affected  by  its  pathetic  prayer, 
that  they  directed  the  Count  de  Vergennes  to  request,  as  a 
favor  to  France,  that  Captain  Asgill  might  be  set  at  liberty. 
This  spurred  up  the  tardy  Congress  to  action,  and  the  young 
man  was  restored  to  his  family. 

Sir  Guy  Carleton  at  length,  in  August,  gave  notice  that 
preliminaries  for  a  treaty  of  peace  had  begun  at  Paris.  The 


412  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

war  was  now  closed,  and  the  French  troops  marched  north 
previous  to  their  embarkation  for  France.  Washington,  to 
show  a  mark  of  respect  to  his  allies,  took  his  army  down 
the  river  to  meet  them  at  King's  Ferry.  He  ordered  all  the 
troops  to  be  clad  and  equipped  with  the  clothing  and  arms 
furnished  by  France,  and  those  taken  from  the  English  ma- 
gazines at  Yorktown,  which  the  French  had  generously  sur- 
rendered to  the  suffering  Americans,  and  drawn  up  in  two 
opposite  lines  some  distance  apart.  Between  these  the  en- 
tire French  army  passed,  with  colors  flying — the  Americans 
playing  the  whole  time  a  French  march.  These  gallant 
soldiers,  with  the  sensitiveness  peculiar  to  their  race,  felt 
this  expression  of  gratitude  and  compliment  deeply,  and 
made  the  heavens  ring  with  their  enthusiastic  acclamations. 
The  two  armies  encamped  on  and  near  Verplanck's  Point 
for  a  month,  when  the  French  departed  for  Boston,  and  the 
Americans  returned  to  Newburgh.  But  just  as  the  evils  of 
war  were  disappearing,  more  threatening  danger  appeared 
in  the  attitude  of  the  army.  The  prospect  of  relief  and  of 
prosperity  to  the  country  did  not  better  their  condition, 
much  less  forbode  any  good  in  the  future.  At  the  very 
time  officers  and  men  were  entertaining  their  French  allies 
at  Verplanck's  Point,  they  were  in  a  state  of  the  greatest 
destitution.  At  Yorktown,  old  Baron  Steuben  had  to  sell 
his  horse  in  order  to  raise  funds  with  which  to  give  a  dinner 
to  the  British  officers ;  and  in  the  last  meeting  of  the  troops 
of  the  two  nations,  the  American  officers  were  filled  with 
mortification  that  they  were  unable  to  return  the  civilities 
of  the  French.  Their  families  were  suffering  at  home, 
while  they  had  not  the  means  to  pay  for  their  own  daily 
expenses.  Says  Washington,  in  writing  to  the  Secretary  of 
War,  "  Only  conceive  then  the  mortification  they  must 
suffer  (even  the  general  officers)  when  they  cannot  invite  a 
French  officer,  a  visiting  friend,  or  a  traveling  acquaint 
ance,  to  a  better  repast  than  bad  whisky  (and  not  always 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  413 

that)  and  a  bit  of  beef,  without  vegetables,  will  afford 
them."  In  speaking  of  the  result  of  neglecting  to  provide 
for  the  army,  he  says,  with  that  clear  foresight  which  at 
times  almost  amounts  to  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  "Under 
present  circumstances,  when  I  see  such  a  number  of  men 
goaded  by  a  thousand  stings  of  reflection  on  the  past  and  of 
anticipation  on  the  future,  about  to  be  turned  on  the  world, 
soured  by  penury  and  by  what  they  call  the  ingratitude  of 
the  public,  involved  in  debts,  without  one  farthing  of  money 
to  carry  them  home,  after  having  spent  the  flower  of  their 
days,  and  many  of  them  their  patrimonies,  in  establishing 
the  freedom  and  independence  of  their  country,  and  suffered 
every  thing  that  human  nature  is  capable  of  enduring  on 
this  side  of  death.  I  repeat  it,  when  I  consider  these  irri- 
tating circumstances,  without  one  thing  to  soothe  their  feel- 
ings or  dispel  the  gloomy  prospects,  I  cannot  avoid  appre- 
hending that  a  train  of  evils  will  follow,  of  a  very  serious 
and  distressing  nature.  *  *  I  wish  not  to  heighten  the 
shades  of  the  picture  so  far  as  the  reality  would  justify  in 
doing  it — I  could  give  anecdotes  of  patriotism  and  distress 
which  have  scarcely  ever  been  paralleled,  never  surpassed 
in  the  history  of  mankind.  But  you  may  rely  upon  it,  the 
patience  and  long  suffering  of  this  army  are  almost  exhausted, 
and  that  there  never  was  so  great  a  spirit  of  discontent  as 
at  present.  While  in  the  field  I  think  it  may  be  kept  from 
breaking  into  acts  of  outrage ;  but  when  we  retire  into  win- 
ter quarters,  unless  the  storm  is  previously  dissipated,  I  can 
not  be  at  ease  respecting  the  consequences.  It  is  high  time 
for  a  peace."  With  such  words  on  his  lips,  and  such  gloomy 
thoughts  filling  his  heart,  Washington  had  now  marched  his 
army  into  winter  quarters,  and  sat  down  to  wait  the  result. 
He  wished  to  visit  Mount  Yernon,  but  dared  not  leave  the 
army.  As  in  the  field  of  battle,  so  in  every  place  where 
danger  thickened,  he  interposed  his  person  and  influence  to 
save  his  country.  His  predictions  proved  true ;  the  army 


414  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

soon  became  unsettled,  and  from  discontent  proceeded  to 
loud  murmurs  and  open  menaces.  It  addressed  Congress, 
but  its  appeals  were  met  with  an  unsatisfactory  response, 
and  there  now  seemed  no  means  left  of  obtaining  justice 
except  their  swords. 

At  length,  March  10th,  an  anonymous  notification  of  a 
meeting  of  the  officers  at  the  Temple*  appeared,  followed 
by  a  spirited  and  stirring  address,  written,  as  it  afterward 
appeared,  by  Major,  subsequently  General  Armstrong.  This 
address  was  well  calculated  to  arouse  the  army,  already  in  a 
highly  inflammable  state.  The  author,  after  speaking  of 
the  disappointment  every  one  had  felt  at  the  indifference  of 
government  to  the  wants  and  rights  of  the  army,  saying 
that  "  faith  has  its  limits  as  well  as  its  temper,  and  there 
are  points  beyond  which  neither  can  be  stretched  without 
sinking  into  cowardice  or  plunging  into  credulity,"  takes  a 
survey  of  the  past,  and  in  a  series  of  startling  questions 
asks  how  their  services  have  been  rewarded — their  toils  and 
sufferings  received.  Rousing  their  indignation  by  the  re- 
capitulation of  their  wrongs,  and  the  contemptuous  treat- 
ment of  their  humble  petitions,  he  exclaims — "  If  this  then 
be  your  treatment,  while  the  swords  you  wear  are  necessary 
for  the  defense  of  America,  what  have  you  to  expect  from 
peace,  when  your  voice  shall  sink  and  your  strength  dissi- 
pate by  division ;  when  those  very  swords,  the  instruments 
and  companions  of  your  glory,  shall  be  taken  from  your 
sides,  and  no  remaining  mark  of  military  distinction  left 
but  your  wants,  infirmities  and  scars  ?  Can  you  then  con- 
sent to  be  the  only  sufferers  by  this  revolution,  and  retiring 
from  the  field,  grow  old  in  poverty,  wretchedness  and  con- 


*  A  large  log  building  had  been  erected  on  the  camp-ground  in  which  to  hold 
meetings  of  the  officers.  It  was  to  be  dedicated  the  "  Temple  of  Virtue,"  by  a 
ball,  which  Washington  opened  with  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Warren  as  a  partner.  But 
after  the  ball  broke  up,  the  officers  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  such  scenes 

of  revelry  and  riot  that  it  was  called  simply  the  "  Temple." 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  415 

tempt  ?  Can  you  consent  to  wade  through  the  vile  mire  of 
dependency,  and  owe  the  miserable  remnant  of  that  life  to 
charity  which  has  hitherto  been  spent  in  honor  ?  If  you 
can — go,  and  carry  with  you  the  jests  of  Tories  and  the  scorn 
of  Whigs,  the  ridicule,  and  what  is  worse,  the  pity  of  the  world / 
Go,  starve,  and  be  forgotten  /"  But  if  they  revolt  at  this, 
and  would  "  oppose  tyranny  under  whatever  garb  it  may 
assume,"  he  says,  "  awake,  attend  to  your  situation,  and  re- 
dress yourselves!  If  the  present  moment  be  lost,  every 
future  effort  is  in  vain ;  and  your  threats  then  will  be  empty 
as  your  entreaties  now."  He  bids  them  assume  a  bolder 
tone — appoint  men  to  draw  up  not  a  "  memorial,"  but  a 
"  last  remonstrance" — tell  Congress  that  with  them  rest  the 
momentous  question  of  war  or  peace  between  it  and  the 
army — that  nothing  but  redress  shall  prevail  on  them  to 
abandon  their  arms ;  and  if  the  war,  not  yet  settled,  should 
be  protracted,  they  would,  in  case  their  remonstrance  was 
unheeded,  "  leave  the  government  to  its  fate,"  and  "  retire 
to  some  unsettled  country  to  smile  in  turn,  and  mock  when 
their  fear  cometh  on."  Such  language  and  sentiments  fell 
like  coals  of  fire  on  the  wronged  and  embittered  hearts  of 
the  troops,  and  portended  a  fearful  explosion.  The  crisis 
that  Washington  foretold  had  arrived,  but  Heaven  enabled 
him  to  meet  it.  He  immediately  issued  an  order,  calm  in 
its  tone  and  without  severity  in  its  language,  simply  post- 
poning the  meeting  till  next  Saturday.*  By  this  sagacious 
movement  he  disarmed  opposition  and  gained  time.  He 
spent  the  interval  in  personal  conversations  with  the  prin- 
cipal officers,  and  by  his  great  influence,  wise  counsel  and 
promises,  allayed  the  agitation,  so  that,  before  the  day  of 
meeting,  he  had  undone  all  the  mischief  caused  by  the 
address. 

The  Temple  was  thronged  with  officers  long  before  the 

*  This  caused  another  address  more  moderate  in  its  tone.     These  are  known 
as  the  famous  Newburgh  Addresses. 


416  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

hour  appointed  for  assembling  had  arrived.  Washington, 
accompanied  by  his  escort,  rode  over  from  Newburgh,  some 
three  miles  distant,  and  dismounting  at  the  door,  walked 
slowly  and  solemnly  to  the  raised  platform  at  the  farther 
end.  The  house  was  still  as  the  grave,  and  every  eye  was 
bent  on  their  beloved  commander,  who,  like  a  pillar  of  fire, 
had  moved  before  them  in  the  long  night  of  their  suffer- 
ings. Taking  out  his  spectacles,  he  pleasantly  remarked, 
"  You  see,  gentlemen,  I  have  grown  blind  as  well  as  gray  in 
your  service."  This  simple  expression,  falling  as  it  did  on 
hearts  strung  to  the  highest  tension,  thrilled  like  an  electric 
spark  through  the  assembly.  As  he  glanced  over  the  throng 
of  officers,  and  saw  the  veterans  on  whom  he  had  so  often 
called,  and  not  in  vain,  in  the  hour  of  battle  and  in  the  day 
of  danger,  he  felt  sure  of  support  and  of  success. 

The  address,  calm,  kind,  conciliating  and  sympathetic, 
was  listened  to  with  breathless  interest.  When  it  was  fin- 
ished, Washington,  without  adding  another  word,  passed 
out  and  remounted  his  horse.  Knox  immediately  arose 
and  moved  that  the  thanks  of  the  officers  be  rendered  to 
the  commander-in-chief  for  his  address,  "  and  to  assure  him 
that  the  officers  reciprocate  his  affectionate  expressions  with 
the  greatest  sincerity  of  which  the  human  heart  is  capable." 
A  committee  was  appointed  to  draft  resolutions,  which  re- 
ported in  a  half  an  hour,  declaring  "  that  no  circumstance 
of  distress  or  danger  shall  induce  a  conduct  that  might  tend 
to  sully  the  reputation  which  they  had  acquired  at  the  price 
of  their  blood  and  eight  years'  service."  It  was  also  re- 
solved, that  "  the  officers  of  the  army  view  with  abhorrence 
and  reject  with  disdain  the  infamous  propositions  contained 
in  a  late  anonymous  address,"  etc.  The  conspiracy  was  ex- 
ploded, the  crisis  past,  and  the  danger  over. 

Soon  after  the  news  of  a  preliminary  treaty  of  peace, 
signed  at  Paris,  being  received,  Washington  issued  an  order 
fixing  the  19th  of  April,  1787,  as  the  day  on  which  it 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  417 

should  be  publicly  proclaimed  to  the  army.  At  12  o'clock, 
the  Temple  was  thronged,  and  the  joyful  intelligence  com- 
municated amid  deafening  plaudits.  At  evening  the  chap- 
lains, in  accordance  with  the  orders  of  the  chief,  offered  up 
their  thanksgiving  and  prayers  at  the  head  of  the  several 
brigades.  All  the  military  prisoners  were  set  at  liberty  in 
honor  of  the  event,  and  the  American  camp  shook  till  a  late 
hour  with  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  soldiers. 

Having  addressed  an  able,  patriotic  circular  to  the  several 
States,  Washington  made  a  tour  north  to  visit  the  battle-fields 
in  that  section  of  the  country.  Visiting  Saratoga,  Ticonde- 
roga  and  Crown  Point — he  went  west  as  far  as  Fort  Schuy- 
ler,  being  absent  nineteen  days.  On  his  return,  by  request 
of  the  President  of  Congress,  then  sitting  at  Princeton,  he 
repaired  to  the  latter  place  to  give  the  aid  of  his  counsel  in 
measures  to  be  adopted  for  the  common  welfare. 

A  large  proportion  of  the  officers  and  soldiers  having 
gone  home  on  furlough  during  the  summer,  Congress,  on 
the  18th  of  October,  issued  a  proclamation  discharging  them 
and  all  others  from  service.  The  army  was  thus  disbanded, 
with  the  exception  of  a  small  force  left  at  Newburgh.  The 
scene  presented  at  this  final  breaking  up  of  the  army  was 
most  pitiable.  Officers  and  soldiers  were  left  without  funds 
to  reach  their  homes,  and  there  were  cases  of  individual 
suffering  and  destitution  which  would  move  the  coldest 
heart.  Playing  the  tune  of  Roslin  Castle,  the  mournful 
requiem,  to  the  measure  of  which  they  had  always  borne 
their  dead  comrades  to  the  grave,  they  paraded  for  the  last 
time,  and  then  turned  sorrowfully  away.  The  only  conso- 
lation left  the  poor  soldiers,  as  they  scattered  over  the  coun- 
try, was  the  farewell  address  of  Washington  to  them,  in 
which  he  praised  their  valor  and  patriotism,  and  promised 
to  guard  their  interests. 

At  length  the  orders  arrived  for  the  evacuation  of  New 
York,  and  Washington  returned  to  West  Point,  where  he 


418  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

met  the  few  remaining  troops  and  moved  down  to  Harlaem. 
On  the  morning  of  the  25th  November,  General  Knox  ad- 
vanced to  where  the  Third  Avenue  and  Bowery  now  meet, 
and  awaited  the  withdrawal  of  the  British  troops.  As  they 
retired  he  advanced,  and  as  the  last  British  soldier  left  the 
soil  of  freedom,  cannon  on  the  battery  thundered  out  their 
joy.  Washington  and  Governor  Clinton  then  made  a  formal 
entrance,  escorted  by  a  corps  of  Westchester  light-horse. 
The  two  rode  side  by  side,  followed  by  the  Lieutenant  Gov- 
ernor, and  Council  four  abreast,  these  by  Knox  and  the 
officers  on  horseback,  eight  abreast,  and  they  in  turn  by 
mounted  citizens,  the  procession  being  closed  by  the  Speaker 
of  the  Assembly  and  citizens  on  foot.  The  next  Monday, 
Clinton  gave  a  grand  entertainment  to  the  French  minister 
ind  officers,  and  the  city  rung  to  the  clamors  and  joyful 
shouts  of  the  people. 

Thursday,  the  4th  of  December,  was  fixed  upon  for  the 
final  leave-taking  of  Washington  with  his  officers.  This 
was  the  most  trying  event  in  his  whole  career,  and  he  sum- 
moned all  his  self-command  to  meet  it  with  composure. 
Knox,  and  Greene,  and  Hamilton,  and  Steuben,  and  others 
assembled  in  Francis'  tavern  and  waited  with  beating  hearts 
the  arrival  of  their  chief.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  silence  as 
he  entered,  save  the  clatter  of  scabbards  as  the  whole  group 
rose  to  do  him  reverence.  Casting  his  eye  around,  he  saw 
the  sad  and  mournful  countenances  of  those  who  had  been 
his  companions  in  arms  through  the  long  years  of  darkness 
that  had  past.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  they  had  pressed  by 
his  side  through  the  smoke  of  the  conflict,  and  with  their 
brave  arms  around  him  met  every  shock  of  misfortune  with 
undaunted  souls.  He  had  heard  their  battle-shout  answer 
his  call  in  the  hour  of  deepest  peril,  and  seen  them  bear  his 
standard  triumphantly  on  to  victory.  Brave  hearts  were 
they  all  and  true  on  whom  he  had  leaned,  and  not  in  vain. 
A  thousand  proofs  of  their  devotion  came  rushing  on  his 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  419 

memory — their  toils  and  conflicts  rose  before  him,  and  the 
whole  history  of  the  past  with  its  checkered  scenes  swept 
by,  till  his  heart  sunk  in  affection  and  grief.  Advancing 
slowly  to  the  table,  he  lifted  the  glass  to  his  lips  and  said, 
in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion :  "  With  a  heart  full  of  gra- 
titude and  love,  I  now  take  leave  of  you;  I  most  devoutly  wish 
that  your  latter  days  may  be  as  prosperous  and  happy  as  your 
former  ones  have  been  glorious  and  honorable"  A  mournful, 
profound  silence  followed  this  short  address,  when  Knox, 
the  friend  of  his  bosom,  advanced  to  say  farewell.  But 
neither  could  utter  a  word — Knox  reached  forth  his  hand, 
when  Washington  opening  his  arms  took  the  stern  warrior 
to  his  heart.  In  silence,  that  was  more  eloquent  than  all 
language,  each  advanced  in  turn  and  was  clasped  in  his  em- 
brace. Washington  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  and 
looking  a  silent  farewell,  turned  to  the  door.  A  corps  of 
light  infantry  was  drawn  up  on  either  side  to  receive  him, 
and  as  he  passed  slowly  through  the  lines,  a  gigantic  soldier, 
who  had  moved  beside  him  in  the  terrible  march  on  Trenton, 
stepped  forth  from  the  ranks,  and  reaching  out  his  arms, 
exclaimed,  "Farewell,  my  dear  General,  farewell!"  Wash- 
ington seized  his  hardy  hand  in  both  of  his  and  wrung  it 
convulsively.  In  a  moment  all  discipline  was  at  an  end, 
and  the  soldiers  broke  their  order,  and  rushing  around  him 
seized  him  by  the  hands,  covering  them  with  tears  and  sobs 
of  sorrow.  This  was  too  much  for  even  his  strong  nature, 
and  as  he  moved  away  his  broad  chest  heaved  and  swelled 
above  the  tide  of  feelings  that  had  at  length  burst  the  sway 
of  his  mighty  will,  and  the  big  tears  rolled  unchecked  down 
his  face.  Passing  on  to  Whitehall,  he  entered  a  barge,  and 
as  it  moved  out  into  the  bay  he  rose  and  waved  a  mute 
adieu  to  the  noble  band  on  shore.  A  mournful  cry  was 
borne  back  over  the  water,  and  the  impressive  scene  was 
over. 

He  had  now  severed  every  link  that  bound  him  to  public 


420  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

life  except  the  formal  surrender  of  his  commission  to  Con- 
gress. Passing  on  to  Annapolis  where  this  body  was  in  ses- 
sion, he  was  followed  by  the  excited  population,  escorted  by 
military,  and  hailed  with  shouts  at  every  step  of  his  pro- 
gress. On  the  23d  of  December  he  publicly  gave  in  to 
Congress  his  resignation  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  army. 
A  profound  silence  reigned  during  the  address,  and  many 
an  eye  was  suffused  as  he  closed  with  the  impressive  words, 
"  Having  now  finished  the  work  assigned  me,  I  retire  from 
the  great  theatre  of  action,  and  bidding  an  affectionate  fare- 
well to  this  august  body  under  whose  orders  I  have  so  long 
acted,  I  here  offer  my  commission  and  take  my  leave  of  all 
the  employments  of  public  life."  The  next  morning  he 
left  for  his  farm,  having  for  eight  years  and  a  half  served 
his  country  without  reward,  and  achieved  her  independence 
without  a  spol  on  his  name.  As  he  slowly  travels  back  to 
his  quiet  home,  bereft  of  every  title,  a  simple  American 
citizen  neither  asking  nor  wishing  honor,  he  is  an  object 
of  surpassing  interest.  The  history  of  the  world  cannot 
match  him. 

After  long  years  of  toil,  of  suffering,  and  of  danger,  he 
had  arrived  at  the  summit  of  power  only  to  descend  quietly 
again,  leaving  all  his  authority  with  that  Congress  which 
had  so  often  distrusted,  neglected  and  even  plotted  against 
him.  Superior  to  temptation,  superior  to  passion,  too  lofty 
even  for  unholy  ambition,  he  showed  how  unjust  had  been 
their  suspicions,  how  impolitic  and  injurious  their  opposi- 
tion, and  how  much  above  them  he  had  been  both  in  wis- 
dom and  in  virtue.  It  required  no  effort  for  him  to  surrender 
power.  Having  wielded  it  solely  for  his  country's  good,  he 
laid  it  down  as  a  burden  the  moment  his  country's  peace 
and  liberty  were  secured. 

Arriving  at  home,  Washington  found  that  during  eight 
years'  absence  his  affairs  had  become  sadly  deranged,  and 
he  immediately  set  about  their  adjustment. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  423 

The  executive  council  of  Pennsylvania  had  instructed  the 
delegates  of  the  State  to  lay  before  Congress  the  question 
of  remuneration  for  his  long  and  faithful  services.  But  the 
latter  would  listen  to  no  proposition  on  the  subject.  Simple 
in  his  tastes  and  habits,  he  had  enough  for  his  wants  and 
sought  only  repose.  At  first  it  was  difficult  to  roll  away  the 
weight  of  care  that  had  so  long  rested  on  him.  He  could 
not,  he  said,  get  the  better  of  the  habit  of  reflecting  on  the 
business  of  the  day  immediately  after  waking,  but  as  he  be- 
came gradually  accustomed  to  his  freedom,  he  felt,  as  he 
wrote  in  a  private  letter,  "  like  a  wearied  traveler,  who, 
after  treading  many  a  painful  step  with  a  heavy  burden  on  his 
shoulders,  is  eased  of  the  latter,  having  reached  the  haven  to 
which  all  the  former  were  directed,  and  from  his  house-top 
is  looking  back  and  tracing  with  an  eager  eye  the  meanders 
by  which  he  escaped  the  quicksands  and  mires  which  lay  in 
his  way,  and  into  which  none  but  the  all-powerful  Guide 
and  Disposer  of  events  could  have  prevented  his  falling." 
In  a  letter  to  Lafayette,  to  whom  he  always  opened  his 
heart,  he  said,  "  At  length  I  am  become  a  private  citizen 
on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  and  under  the  shadow  of  my 
own  vine  and  fig-tree,  free  from  the  bustle  of  a  camp  and 
the  busy  scenes  of  public  life,  and  am  solacing  myself  with 
those  tranquil  enjoyments  of  which  the  soldier  who  is  ever 
in  pursuit  of  fame,  the  statesman  whose  watchful  days  and 
sleepless  nights  are  spent  in  devising  schemes  to  promote 
the  welfare  of  his  own,  perhaps  the  ruin  of  other  countries, 
as  if  this  globe  was  insufficient  for  us  all,  and  the  courtier 
who  is  always  watching  the  countenance  of  his  prince,  in 
hopes  of  catching  a  gracious  smile,  can  have  very  little  con- 
ception. I  have  not  only  retired  from  all  public  employ- 
ments, but  I  am  retiring  within  myself,  and  shall  be  able  to 
view  the  solitary  walk,  and  tread  the  paths  of  private  life 
with  a  heartfelt  satisfaction.  Envious  of  none,  I  am  deter- 
mined to  be  pleased  with  all ;  and  this,  my  dear  friend, 


42-4  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

being  the  order  of  my  march,  I  will  move  gently  down  the 
stream  of  life  until  I  sleep  with  my  fathers." 

How  simple  yet  self-sustained — how  elevated  in  his  own 
grand  thoughts  above  all  that  this  world  can  bestow. 
Through  all  the  mazes  and  darkness  and  storms  of  the  last 
eight  years — apparently  chained  and  fettered  by  circum- 
stances to  the  earth,  he  had  nevertheless,  in  the  might  of  a 
great  soul,  been  steadily  soaring  up  to  the  serene  heights 
of  contemplation,  to  the  pure  atmosphere  of  unworldly 
thought. 

During  the  summer  Washington  devoted  most  of  his  time 
to  the  improvement  of  his  farm  and  in  entertaining  guests 
that  crowded  to  see  him  from  almost  every  quarter  of  the 
world.  Lafayette  again  visiting  this  country  in  August, 
he  had  an  affectionate  interview  with  Washington,  and  then 
started  on  a  northern  tour,  while  the  latter  made  his  sixth 
and  last  expedition  west  to  visit  his  lands  in  that  section. 
Supplied  with  tents,  pack-horses  and  provisions,  he  set  out 
in  September  on  a  journey  of  six  hundred  and  eighty  miles 
through  the  wilderness.  He  went  by  the  old  Braddock 
route,  where  had  occurred  the  most  important  events  of  his 
early  life.  What  strange  reminiscences  that  journey  must 
have  called  up,  and  what  a  change  had  passed  over  his  des- 
tiny and  that  of  his  country  since  he  first  trod  that  desolate 
region.  As  he  stood  by  Braddock's  grave,  the  past  and  pre- 
sent met,  and  presented  strange  and  most  striking  contrasts. 
A  mere  stripling,  dressed  in  an  Indian  hunting-shirt,  he  had 
first  passed  over  this  route  on  his  perilous  journey  as  a  com- 
missioner to  the  French.  The  second  time  he  traversed  it 
in  search  of  his  first  battle.  The  third  ended  in  the  terrible 
defeat  of  Braddock ;  and  now,  after  such  a  long  interval,  he 
trod  it  a  portion  neither  of  French  or  English  territory,  but 
of  a  free  land  of  which  he  was  the  deliverer.  Having  sur- 
veyed his  lands  on  the  Monongahela,  he  returned  by  a  long 
and  tedious  route  through  the  wilderness.  The  result  of 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  425 

his  investigations  were  given  in  an  able  letter  to  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Virginia,  in  which  he  portrayed  clearly  the  advan- 
tage that  would  arise  from  a  water  communication,  through 
the  country.  With  that  sagacious  forethought  which  was 
so  characteristic  of  him,  he  had  from  the  first  foreseen  and 
foretold  the  advantages  of  such  communications  both  in  the 
north  and  south. 

On  his  return  he  again  met  Lafayette  at  Richmond,  where 
both  were  received  with  public  honors.  The  latter  then 
accompanied  him  to  Mount  Vernon,  and  the  two  friends  en- 
joyed that  sweet  communion  which  is  known  only  to  pure 
and  virtuous  hearts.  His  visit  being  completed,  Lafayette 
reluctantly  took  his  departure,  accompanied  by  Washington 
as  for  as  Annapolis.  The  tender  nature  of  the  relation  that 
existed  between  these  great  and  good  men,  and  the  warmth 
of  Washington's  affection,  may  be  seen  in  the  following 
simple,  touching  letter  to  the  Marquis  after  their  separation, 
December  8th. 

Says  he,  "  In  the  moment  of  our  separation,  upon  the 
road  as  I  traveled,  and  every  hour  since,  I  have  felt  all  that 
love,  respect,  and  attachment  for  you  with  which  length  of 
years,  close  connection,  and  your  merits  have  inspired  me. 
I  often  asked  myself,  as  our  carriages  separated,  whether 
that  was  the  last  sight  I  should  ever  have  of  you  ?  And 
though  I  wished  to  say  no,  my  fears  answered  yes.  I  called 
to  mind  the  days  of  my  youth,  and  found  they  had  long 
since  fled,  to  return  no  more ;  that  I  now  was  descending 
the  hill  that  I  had  been  fifty-two  years  climbing,  and  that, 
though  I  was  blest  with  a  good  constitution,  I  was  of  a  short 
lived  family,  and  might  soon  expect  to  be  entombed  with 
my  fathers.  These  thoughts  darkened  the  shades  and  gave 
a  gloom  to  the  picture,  and  consequently  to  my  prospect  of 
seeing  you  again." 

In  consequence  of  his  letter  to  the  Governor  on  the  im- 
portance of  internal  navigation,  the  Legislature  organized 


426  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

two  companies  (the  Potomac  and  James  River)  and  gave  to 
him  as  a  compliment  fifty  shares  of  the  former  and  a  hun- 
dred of  the  latter.  These  he  refused  to  accept,  unless  he 
was  allowed  to  appropriate  them  to  some  public  use.  This 
was  granted,  and  he  made  over  before  his  death  the  shares 
of  the  James  River  Company  to  Liberty  Hall  Academy  in 
Rockbridge  county,  now  Washington  College,  which  has 
been  materially  benefited  by  the  donation.  The  fifty 
shares  of  the  Potomac  Company  were  bequeathed  for  the 
endowment  of  a  University  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 
What  has  become  of  them  perhaps  the  directors  of  the 
Chesapeake  and  Ohio  Canal  Company,  into  which  they  were 
merged,  can  tell.  During  this  year  he  became  interested  in 
a  scheme  of  Lady  Huntington  for  civilizing  and  Christian- 
izing the  Indians,  but  Congress  declining  to  grant  any  land 
for  the  colonists  that  were  to  be  sent  out  in  accordance  with 
this  plan,  it  fell  through.  The  past  year  Washington  had 
devoted  himself  almost  entirely  to  his  farm,  and  having  at 
length  got  it  in  a  proper  state,  he  the  next  spring  [1785] 
turned  his  attention  to  ornamenting  his  grounds  by  trans- 
planting forest  trees.  He  saw  every  tree  taken  up,  moved, 
and  put  down  in  the  place  assigned  it.  He  also  added  to 
his  stock  of  fruit  trees,  and  might  be  seen  almost  daily  in 
the  season  for  pruning,  with  knife  in  hand,  clipping  his 
orchards.  That  hand,  which  had  so  long  grasped  the  sword 
and  made  its  light  terrible  on  the  battle-field,  now  wielded 
with  far  greater  delight  the  pruning  hook. 

Still  the  privacy  and  seclusion  he  sought  were  not  wholly 
attainable,  for,  though  holding  no  public  place,  he  was  the 
most  public  man  on  the  continent.  Hence,  between  corres- 
pondence, applications  for  aid  or  advice,  and  a  constant 
throng  of  visitors,  only  brief  respites  of  tranquil  leisure 
could  be  enjoyed.  Nothing  but  the  regularity  of  his  habits 
allowed  him  any  privacy.  Rising  before  the  sun,  he  shut 
himself  up  in  his  study  till  breakfast  time.  After  breakfast 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  427 

he  mounted  his  horse,  taking  such  guests  as  chose  to  accom- 
pany him,  and  rode  over  his  farms.  On  his  return  he  again 
withdrew  to  his  study  till  three  o'clock,  when  he  dined,  and 
devoted  the  rest  of  the  day  to  amusement. 

In  October  of  this  year,  Houdon  took  the  bust  of  Wash 
ington  previous  to  making  his  celebrated  .statue  of  him, 
which  had  been  ordered  by  the  State  of  Virginia.    Chantry 
and  Canova  both  executed  statues  of  him,  but  Houdon's  is 
considered  the  best  ever  taken. 

While  Washington  was  thus  enjoying  the  comparative 
quiet  of  his  home  avocations,  events  were  gathering  to  a 
crisis,  which  showed  clearly  that  the  arm  that  had  saved 
the  republic  in  war  would  soon  be  needed  to  rescue  it  from 
as  great  perils  in  peace.  The  impossibility  of  governing 
the  country  by  a  Congress  grew  every  day  more  and  more 
apparent  With  such  a  mediator  as  Washington  between  it 
and  conflicting  interests  and  sections,  it  had  floundered 
through  the  war  almost  miraculously,  but  now,  when  left 
entirely  to  itself,  it  only  got  involved  deeper  and  deeper  in 
embarrassments.  Besides,  if  the  jealousies  of  the  separate 
States  prevented  them  from  yielding  competent  powers  to 
Congress  to  save  the  country  from  an  invading  army,  it  was 
clear  they  would  operate  with  stronger  force  in  peace.  This 
state  of  things  Washington  declared  would,  unless  remedied, 
effect  "our  downfall  as  a  nation."  "This,"  he  says,  "is  as 
clear  to  me  as  A,  B,  C,  and  I  think  we  have  opposed  Great 
Britain  and  have  arrived  at  the  present  state  of  peace  and 
independence  to  very  little  purpose,  if  we  cannot  conquer 
our  own  prejudices."  He  declared  that,  although  a  simple 
citizen,  and  hence  as  liable  as  any  one  to  feel  the  effects  of 
tyrannical  legislation,  he  had  no  fear  of  "  too  great  an  ex- 
tension of  Federal  powers,"  but  he  "predicted  the  worst 
consequences  from  a  half-starved,  limping  government,  that 
appears  to  be  always  moving  on  crutches  and  tottering  at 
every  step."  Again,  in  writing  to  Mr.  Jay,  he  says :  "  To 

23 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

be  fearful  of  investing  Congress,  constituted  as  that  body  is, 
with  ample  authorities  for  national  purposes,  appears  to  me 
the  climax  of  popular  absurdity  and  madness.  Could  Con- 
gress exert  them  for  the  detriment  of  the  public  without 
injuring  themselves  in  an  equal  or  greater  proportion  ?  Are 
not  their  interests  inseparably  connected  with  those  of  their 
constituents  ?"  On  the  contrary,  he  feared  that  they  would 
be  too  timid  in  the  use  of  authority,  held  back  by  the  fear 
of  losing  their  popularity.  Without  going  into  the  particu- 
lar measures  in  which  this  jealousy  of  giving  too  much 
power  to  Congress  exhibited  itself,  the  result  at  length 
reached  was — a  confederacy  too  weak  to  hold  together.  Unless 
a  change  could  be  effected,  therefore,  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union  was  inevitable.  This  deplorable  state  of  things  filled 
Washington  with  the  deepest  anxiety  and  grief.  To  see  the 
goodly  fabric  he  had  reared  with  so  much  toil  and  care  fall 
to  the  ground,  and  the  nation  he  had  saved  from  bondage 
become  the  by -word  and  scoff  of  kings,  was  a  contemplation 
from  which  he  turned  away  with  an  aching  heart.  He 
strove  by  every  exertion  in  his  power  to  avert  such  a  catas- 
trophe. Events  at  length  shaped  matters  so  that  the  threat- 
ened peril  was  escaped.  Maryland  and  Virginia  appointed 
commissioners  to  form  a  compact  relative  to  the  navigation 
of  the  rivers  Potomac  and  Pocomoke  and  part  of  Chesa- 
peake bay.  These  proposed  other  commissioners  to  make 
arrangements  for  maintaining  a  naval  force  in  the  Chesa- 
peake, and  to  establish  a  tariff  of  duties  on  imports,  to 
which  the  laws  of  both  States  should  conform.*  This  sug- 
gested to  the  Legislature  of  Virginia  to  request  other  States 
to  send  deputies  also  to  the  convention  to  take  into  consi- 
deration the  trade  of  the  United  States,  and  adopt  regula- 
tions, and  suggest  laws  to  Congress  for  an  harmonious 
arrangement  of  the  whole  question  of  internal  commerce. 

*  Tide  Marshall's  Life  of  Washington. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  429 

Only  five  States  sent  deputies,  and  these  without  power  to 
settle  anything.  They,  however,  accomplished  one  grand 
work — they  made  a  report,  showing  the  evils  of  the  present 
federal  system — and  recommended  a  convention  of  deputies 
from  all  the  States  to  take  the  matter  up.  Virginia  ap- 
pointed seven,  Washington  heading  the  list.  He,  however, 
hesitated  about  being  "  swept  back  into  the  tide  of  public 
affairs."  Besides,  he  had  written  a  circular  letter  to  the 
States,  declaring  his  intention  to  resign  the  presidency  of 
the  Cincinnati  Society,  and  saying  he  could  not  be  present 
at  their  next  meeting  in  Philadelphia.  Now  this  meeting 
was  to  take  place  at  the  very  time  appointed  for  the  con- 
vention. If  he  should,  therefore,  go  to  the  latter,  after  he 
had  refused  to  attend  the  former,  the  distinction  would  seem 
to  be  invidious — in  short,  it  would  look  like  a  desertion  of 
his  old  companions  in  arms.  Especially  would  this  con- 
struction be  natural,  as  the  society  was  very  unpopular — 
being  denounced  unsparingly  as  anti-republican.  It  had  a 
badge  like  foreign  nobility — it  admitted  foreign  officers — 
membership  was  hereditary  in  the  family  of  the  members, 
while  it  allowed  the  accumulation  of  funds  to  any  amount. 
Although  Washington  had  through  his  influence  shorn  it  of 
its  most  objectionable  features,  and  thus  silenced  some  of 
the  heaviest  attacks  of  its  enemies,  still  it  was  unpopular. 
But  Congress  having  sanctioned  the  convention,  thus  giving 
it  a  legal  character,  and  so  arranged  matters  that  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Society  of  the  Cincinnati  should  be  a  week  earlier, 
thus  giving  Washington  an  opportunity  to  attend  it  first  and 
explain  his  views,  he  at  length,  at  the  solicitation  of  men 
earnest  for  the  welfare  of  their  country,  yielded  his  scruples 
and  accepted  the  appointment. 

The  convention  assembled  the  second  Monday  in  May, 
with  every  State  but  Rhode  Island  represented.  Wash- 
ington was  appointed  president,  and  the  result  of  its 
deliberations  was  the  CONSTITUTION  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


430  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  go  into  the  history  of  that  con- 
vention. Its  deliberations  lasted  four  months,  and  the  con- 
clusions it  came  to  were  the  fruit  of  a  compromise.  That 
jealousy  which  had  hitherto  rendered  the  confederacy  com- 
paratively powerless,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  strong  de- 
sire to  see  great  power  concentrated  in  the  Federal  head,  on 
the  other,  operated  as  antagonisms,  and  produced  at  last 
that  which  neither  party  could  fully  approve.  The  consti- 
tution was  not  stringent  enough  for  the  Federalists,  and  too 
stringent  for  the  Democrats — and  thus  being  a  compromise, 
had  the  most  determined,  positive  men  of  both  parties  for 
its  enemies.  Such  patriots  as  Patrick  Henry,  Colonel  Ma- 
son, Gerry  and  others  opposed  it.  It  was,  however,  sub- 
mitted to  the  different  States,  and  Washington  waited  with 
the  deepest  solicitude  their  decision.  The  prospects  of  its 
adoption  were  poor  at  first,  but  they  gradually  brightened, 
and  at  length  it  became  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States. 

The  first  step,  as  provided  by  the  new  constitution,  was 
the  election  of  a  President.  All  eyes  were  immediately 
turned  to  Washington.  But  averse  to  entering  again  the 
cares  of  public  life,  unwilling  to  incur  the  suspicion  of 
being  ambitious,  and  loth  to  part  with  pursuits  so  congenial 
to  his  tastes,  he  was  disinclined  at  first  to  yield  to  the  gen- 
eral wish.  Being  plied,  however,  on  the  only  weak  point 
he  possessed,  love  of  country,  he  was  at  last  persuaded  to 
accept  the  nomination,  and  was  elected  first  President 
almost  by  acclamation. 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  431 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Washington  prepares  to  leave  Mount  Vernon — He  Visits  Fredericksburg,  to  take 
leave  of  his  Mother— He  Departs  for  New  York— The  Journey— Triumphal  Arch 
at  Trenton— Reception  at  Elizabethtown— Arrival  and  Welcome  at  New  York — 
Installation  of  Washington  as  First  President  of  the  United  States — He  Declines 
Compensation  for  his  Services — Illness,  and  Recovery — Debate  on  Titles — Death 
of  the  Mother  of  Washington — Organization  of  the  Departments — Washington 
makes  a  Tour  through  the  Eastern  States— The  Seat  of  Government  is  Removed 
from  New  York  to  Philadelphia — Establishment  of  a  National  Bank — Washing- 
ton Visits  the  Southern  States — Development  of  Factions — He  Desires  to  Retire 
at  the  Close  of  his  Term  of  Administration— Is  Induced  to  Serve  a  Second  Time 
— Re-inaugurated  President  of  the  United  States — The  French  Revolution — Eng- 
land Declares  War  against  France — Washington  Issues  a  Proclamation  of  Strict 
Neutrality — Opposition  and  Enmity — M.  Genet's  Arrival,  and  Assumption — 
Washington  Requests  his  Recall — Relations  with  England — Jay's  Mission — Op- 
position to  the  Tax  on  Distilled  Spirits — Proclamation  to  the  Insurgents — Calling 
out  of  the  Militia — Restoration  of  Peace — Jay's  Treaty — Its  Ratification — Resig- 
nation of  Randolph,  Secretary  of  State — Washington's  Private  Life — Description 
of  his  Appearance  on  State  Occasions — Imprisonment  of  Lafayette —Washing- 
ton's Successful  Intercession  in  his  Behalf— Washington's  Farewell  Address — 
Election  of  John  Adams — Washington  Returns  to  Mount  Vernon— His  Life  in 
Retirement — Difficulties  with  France — Washington  appointed  Commander-in- 
Chief— He  Returns  to  Philadelphia  to  Organize  the  Army — Interview  with  Dr. 
Logan — Napoleon — Terms  of  Accommodation  at  Paris — Washington  at  Mount 
Vernon — His  Last  Illness — His  Death — His  Character. 

THE  election  of  Washington  being  in  effect  unanimous, 
he  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  result,  as  soon  as  mere  news- 
paper returns  could  be  received  from  different  parts  of  the 
country,  and  hence  at'  once  began  to  make  preparations  for 
leaving  Mount  Vernon.  Speaking  of  the  long  interval  be- 
fore entering  on  his  duties,  he,  in  a  letter  to  Knox,  said, 
"  This  delay  may  be  compared  to  a  reprieve,  for  in  confi- 
dence I  tell  you,  (with  the  world  it  would  obtain  little  cre- 
dence,) that  my  movements  to  the  seat  of  government  will 
be  accompanied  by  feelings,  not  unlike  those  of  a  culprit 
who  is  going  to  a  place  of  execution,  so  unwilling  am  I,  in 
the  evening  of  a  life  nearly  consumed  in  public  cares,  to 


432  LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON. 

quit  a  peaceful  abode  for  an  ocean  of  difficulties."  His  last 
act  before  commencing  his  journey  north,  was  one  of  filial 
devotion.  His  aged  mother  lived  in  Fredericksburg,  and 
thither  he  directed  his  steps.  After  embracing  her,  he  told 
her  of  his  election  to  the  office  of  President,  and  added  that, 
before  he  entered  upon  his  duties,  he  had  come  to  bid  her 
"  an  affectionate  farewell."  "  So  soon,"  said  he,  "  as  the 
public  business  which  must  necessarily  be  encountered  in 
forming  a  new  government,  can  be  dispensed  with,  I  shall 
hasten  back."  "  You  will  see  me  no  more,"  she  mourn- 
fully replied.  "My  great  age  and  the  disease  which  is 
rapidly  approaching  my  vitals,  warn  me  that  I  shall  not  be 
long  in  this  world.  But  you,  George,  fulfill  the  high  desti- 
nies which  Heaven  has  assigned  you.  Go,  my  son,  and  may 
Heaven  and  your  mother's  blessing  be  with  you,  always." 
Overcome  by  the  solemnity  of  her  manner  and  the  declara- 
tion, which  he  knew  to  be  true,  he  leaned  his  head  on  her 
aged  shoulder  and  wept.  That  great  grand  heart,  which 
made  him  so  terrible  on  the  battle-field,  was  yet  full  of  the 
tenderest  affections,  and  clinging  still  to  that  dear  parent, 
whose  love  for  him  was  deep  and  unfailing  as  the  ocean- 
tide,  he  wept  like  a  child  when  told  he  should  see  her  no 
more.  Not  when  on  the  disastrous  field  he  stops  and 
gathers  around  him,  by  his  majestic  bearing,  the  broken 
fragments  of  his  army,  nor  when  he  stands  at  the  head  of 
the  republic  which  he  has  saved,  does  he  appear  so  great, 
so  worthy  of  the  adoration  of  men,  as  here  when  he  leans 
and  weeps  on  the  neck  of  his  mother. 

The  scene  and  the  characters  furnish  one  of  the  noblest 
subjects  for  an  artist  found  in  American  history. 

From  the  time  that  the  result  of  Washington's  election 
was  known,  till  his  departure  for  New  York,  congratulations 
and  warm  expressions  of  delight  poured  in  upon  him  in 
such  a  constant  flow,  that  if  anything  could  have  reconciled 
him  to  the  abandonment  of  private  life,  the  pleasure  he  was 


Washington  taking  leave  of  the  Army. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  435 

evidently  giving  to  others  would  have  effected  it.  Still  it 
required  a  great  effort  to  surrender  the  quiet  of  his  home, 
and  the  pursuits  so  congenial  to  his  tastes,  for  the  turmoil  of 
public  life.  In  a  letter  to  Edward  Rutledge,  he  says :  "  You 
know,  my  dear  sir,  I  had  concentrated  all  my  schemes,  all 
my  views,  all  my  wishes  within  the  narrow  circle  of  domestic 
enjoyment.  Though  I  flatter  myself  the  world  will  do  me 
the  justice  to  believe,  that,  at  my  time  of  life  and  in  my 
circumstances,  nothing  but  a  conviction  of  duty  could  have 
induced  me  to  depart  from  my  resolution  of  remaining  in 
retirement,  yet  I  greatly  apprehend  that  my  countrymen 
will  expect  too  much  of  me." 

At  length,  on  the  16th  of  April,  he  bade  a  reluctant  adieu 
to  his  farm  and  rural  occupations,  and  commenced,  what 
was  at  that  time  the  long,  tedious  journey  to  New  York. 
Instead  of  being  elated  with  the  proud  position  he  was  to 
occupy,  or  of  feeling  his  pulses  quicken  at  the  whisper  of 
ambition,  a  touching  sadness  pervades  his  whole  conduct, 
and  he  inserts  in  his  diary :  "About  ten  o'clock  I  bade  adieu 
to  Mount  Vernon,  to  private  life  and  to  domestic  felicity ; 
and  with  a  mind  oppressed  with  more  anxious  and  painful 
sensations  than  I  have  words  to  express,  set  out  for  New 
York  in  company  with  Mr.  Thompson  and  Colonel  Hum- 
phreys, with  the  best  disposition  to  render  service  to  my 
country  in  obedience  to  its  call,  but  with  less  hope  of  an- 
swering its  expectations." 

His  journey  was  more  like  the  triumphal  march  of  a  Ro- 
man conqueror,  than  the  quiet  progress  of  an  American 
citizen.  The  news  of  his  approach  preceded  him,  and  from 
every  farm-house  and  shop  and  hamlet — from  every  valley 
and  green  mountain  slope,  the  grateful  delighted  people 
came  swarming  in  crowds  along  the  highway  to  greet  him 
— and  shouts,  and  blessings,  and  delirious  welcome  marked 
every  step  of  his  passage.  At  Trenton,  the  inhabitants 
wreathed  with  garlands  the  bridge  of  Assanpink,  where  he 


436  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

lay  encamped  the  night  before  he  marched  on  Princeton, 
and  over  it  bent  an  arch  on  which  was  inscribed : 

THE  HERO  WHO  DEFENDED  THE  MOTHERS, 
WlLL  ALSO  PROTECT  THE  DAUGHTERS. 

At  the  farther  extremity  a  crowd  of  little  girls,  robed  in 
white,  with  garlands  around  their  temples,  and  baskets  filled 
with  flowers  in  their  hands,  stood  ready  to  receive  him  as  he 
passed  beneath  the  arch.  Behind  them,  at  a  little  distance, 
was  still  another  throng  composed  of  maidens  also,  arrayed  in 
white,  and  still  farther  in  the  back  ground  the  aged  fathers 
and  mothers.  As  the  stately  form  of  Washington  passed 
through  the  arch,  those  children  and  maidens  burst  forth  into 
a  song  of  welcome.  The  chorus  was,  "Strew  your  hero's  way 
with  flowers,"  and  as  its  sweet  and  thrilling  melody  rolled 
heavenward,  they  cast  their  flowers  in  his  path.  The  aged 
parents  behind  with  glad  tears  streaming  down  their 
cheeks ;  the  daughters  in  front,  arrayed  in  white ;  the  little 
children  nearer  still,  their  eyes  beaming  with  excitement, 
and  the  associations  connected  with  the  spot,  all  combined 
to  render  the  scene  one  of  the  most  tender  and  touching  in 
the  whole  life  of  Washington ;  and  as  the  clear  and  ringing 
chorus,  "  Strew  your  hero's  way  with  flowers"  rose  and  fell 
in  thrilling  cadences  on  the  air,  the  enthusiasm  broke  over 
all  bounds,  and  a  long  shout  of  exultation,  and  "  Long  live 
Washington,"  shook  the  banks  of  the  stream.  The  beauti- 
ful ranks  opened  to  receive  the  chieftain  as  he  advanced, 
and  looking  down  on  the  throng  of  sweet  upturned  faces, 
the  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes,  and  with  a  quivering  lip,  he 
waved  his  hat  and  passed  on.  At  Elizabethtown  an  elegant 
barge,  manned  by  thirteen  New  York  pilots,  neatly  dressed 
in  white,  was  waiting  to  receive  him.  The  shore  was  lined 
with  people,  and  as  Washington  stepped  into  the  boat,  they 
sent  up  a  long  and  deafening  shout.  At  a  given  signal  the 
gayly  decorated  craft  pushed  from  the  shore,  and  as  the  oars 


LIFE    OP    WASHINGTON.  437 

dipped  into  the  water  there  went  forth  a  blast  of  trumpets, 
and  triumphant  strains  of  martial  music  floated  out  over 
the  water.  Boat  after  boat  from  New  York  met  and  fell  in 
the  procession,  and  when  the  open  bay  was  reached,  a  whole 
fleet  of  vessels,  flaunting  with  ribbons  and  gay  streamers, 
and  crowded  with  spectators,  gathered  around  the  barge  of 
Washington,  singing  peans  of  victory,  while  shouts  blending 
in  with  the  pealing  of  bugles  and  strains  of  martial  music 
swelled  the  enthusiasm  beyond  all  bounds.  The  whole  vast 
concourse  swept  on  toward  the  Battery,  each  wharf  as  they 
passed  sending  up  a  wild  welcome  from  its  crowded  head, 
while  the  thunder  of  artillery  received  him  at  the  place  of 
landing.  As  he  stepped  on  shore,  one  united  loud  "  LONG 
LIVE  WASHINGTON"  rose  from  the  mighty  multitude.  Pass- 
ing through  lines  of  military,  he  moved  to  the  head  of  the 
military,  when  the  whole  fell  in  and  passed  up  Broadway  to 
the  Park,  beside  which  was  the  house  selected  for  his  resi- 
dence. At  night  the  city  was  ablaze  with  illuminations  and 
innumerable  fire-works,  and  the  streets  shook  to  the  shouts 
of  the  populace.  Wholly  unlike  all  other  men  throughout 
his  whole  career,  so  here  the  passionate  enthusiastic  wel- 
come he  received  did  not  waken  up  one  of  those  feelings  of 
gratification  or  pride  which  seem  inherent  in  our  very  nature. 
Intent  only  on  benefiting  others,  thinking  sadly  over  the 
disappointments  he  might  create,  he  says :  "  The  departure 
of  the  boats  which  attended  me,  and  joined  on  this  occasion, 
some  with  instrumental  music  on  board — the  decorations  of 
the  ships,  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  the  loud  acclamations  of 
the  people  which  rent  the  air  as  I  passed  along  the  wharves, 
filled  my  mind  with  sensations  (contemplating  the  reverse 
of  this  scene,  which  may  be  the  case  after  all  my  labors  to 
do  good)  as  painful  as  they  were  pleasing."  The  pageantry 
which  usually  intoxicates  the  soul,  and  the  adoration  which 
naturally  awakens  pride,  had  110  power  over  him.  Think- 
ing only  of  the  country  he  loves  better  than  his  life,  his  mind 


438  LIFE    OP   WASHINGTON. 

passes  on  to  the  time  when  his  best  efforts  may  be  mis- 
judged and  his  fondest  hopes  disappointed.  Good  as  he 
was  great,  so  good  that  virtue  in  him  seemed  not  the  result 
of  effort,  but  the  natural  breath  of  his  being,  he  seems  not 
to  know  what  it  is  to  resist  temptation. 

I  do  not  design  to  go  into  a  detailed  history  of  Washing- 
ton's administrations,  for  that  would  embrace  the  entire 
range  of  the  political  history  of  the  country  for  eight  years, 
sufficient  in  itself  to  constitute  a  large  work. 

His  installation  into  office  as  First  President  of  the  Re- 
public, April  30th,  was  accompanied  with  imposing  ceremo- 
nies. At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  all  the  bells  in  the 
city  called  the  inhabitants  each  to  his  own  place  of  worship, 
to  invoke  God's  blessing  on  their  future  chief,  and  on  the 
country  over  which  he  was  to  preside.  In  those  days  the 
superintending  providence  of  the  Almighty  was  believed  in, 
and  his  pleasure  or  displeasure  considered  worth  regarding 
by  those  who  loved  their  country.  At  noon  the  troops 
paraded  in  front  of  Washington's  house,  when  he,  attended 
by  the  committees  of  Congress  and  Heads  of  Department 
and  Foreign  Ministers,  entered  his  coach  and  rode  alone  to 
the  Federal  Hall.  Chancellor  Livingston  administered  the 
oath  of  office  in  presence  of  the  people,  who  ratified  it 
with  long  and  loud  acclamations  of  "Long  live  Washington, 
our  President." 

After  delivering  his  inaugural  speech  to  the  two  Houses 
of  Congress,  he  went  on  foot  to  St.  Paul's  church,  where 
prayers  were  read  by  the  bishop.  At  night  bonfires  and 
illuminations  and  transparencies  kept  the  city  in  a  tumult 
of  joy,  and  lighted  out  the  day,  which  had  so  auspiciously 
begun. 

Acting  on  the  principle  which  had  governed  all  his  public 
life,  Washington  announced  to  Congress  that  he  would 
receive  no  compensation  for  his  services,  and  asked  only 
that  his  necessary  expenses  should  be  paid  by  the  State. 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  439 

The  different  departments  not  yet  being  organized,  Jay, 
Secretary  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  Knox,  of  War,  under 
Congress,  continued  to  fulfill  the  duties  of  their  respective 
offices,  while  a  Board  of  Commissioners  had  charge  of  the 
Treasury.  From  these  Washington  obtained  full  reports, 
which  he  himself  went  over  carefully  and  in  detail,  and 
condensed  with  great  labor.  He  at  once,  with  his  usual 
method,  set  out  to  master  every  department  of  government. 

From  the  first  he  was  constantly  overrun  with  persons 
calling  to  pay  their  respects  to  him,  distracting  his  attention 
and  occupying  the  time  which  he  needed  for  public  pur- 
poses. This  embarrassed  him  much ;  still  it  was  a  delicate 
matter  to  avoid  the  evil  on  the  one  hand,  and  yet  escape 
the  charge  of  imitating  royalty  in  exclusiveness  on  the 
other.  After  much  discussion  and  correspondence,  it  was 
finally  agreed  upon  to  set  apart  one  hour  on  each  Tuesday, 
between  three  and  four,  to  receive  visitors. 

In  June,  he  was  taken  seriously  ill,  and  suffered  much 
from  an  affection  of  one. of  his  limbs,  and  for  a  time  morti- 
fication seemed  almost  certain  to  follow.  Dr.  Bard  was  his 
physician,  and  while  the  danger  was  imminent,  never  left 
his  side.  From  the  anxiety  manifested  in  the  countenances 
of  those  who  surrounded  him,  and  the  constant  assiduous 
attentions  of  the  physician,  Washington  became  convinced 
that  his  case  was  a  very  critical  one.  One  day,  therefore, 
being  left  alone  with  Dr.  Bard,  he  looked  him  steadily  in 
the  face,  and  then  asked  him  to  say  candidly,  what  he 
thought  would  be  the  termination  of  his  disease.  The 
doctor  replied  that  he  had  great  hopes  of  his  recovery,  still 
there  were  serious  grounds  of  apprehension.  "  To-night  or 
twenty  years  hence,  (calmly  replied  Washington,)  makes  no 
diference  ;  I  know  that  I  am  in  the  hands  of  a  good  Provi- 
dence."* He  was  ill  six  weeks,  and  it  was  a  long  time 

*  Life  of  Dr.  Samuel  Bard,  by  Professor  McVickar. 


440  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

before  he  regained  his  usual  strength  and  health.  When 
he  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  ride  out  by  being  bolstered 
up  in  his  seat,  it  was  touching  to  witness  the  sad  and 
anxious  countenances  of  the  people  as  he  passed ;  and  the 
murmured  blessings  that  followed  his  receding  carriage 
were  worth  more  than  thrones  and  diadems. 

From  the  first,  there  had  been  in  the  Senate  a  singular 
excitement  respecting  the  title  with  which  the  President 
should  be  addressed,  and  a  joint  committee  from  both 
Houses,  was  at  length  .appointed  to  report  in  this  important 
matter.  Their  united  report  was,  that  no  titles  should  be 
given.  But  this  was  too  democratic  for  the  Senate,  and  a 
hot  debate  followed  in  that  body,  which  was  stopped  only 
by  the  previous  question.  The  committee  of  the  Senate, 
however,  reported  that  it  was  proper  to  style  the  President 
"  His  Highness,  the  President  of  the  United  States  of  America, 
and  Protector  of  their  Liberties  "  The  House  of  Represen- 
tatives took  no  notice  of  this,  but  addressed  a  communica- 
tion to  the  President  simply  as  "  President  of  the  United 
States." 

The  excitement  extended  to  the  country,  and  the  news- 
papers took  up  the  subject  with  great  warmth,  but  the 
republican  spirit  at  length  overcame  all  opposition,  and  the 
subject  of  titles  was  dismissed  from  the  public  mind. 

In  August,  Washington  received  intelligence  of  the  death 
of  his  mother,  who  had  reached  the  advanced  age  of  eighty- 
two.  In  reply  to  a  letter  from  his  sister,  announcing  the 
sad  event,  he  said,  "  Awful  and  affecting  as  the  death  of  a 
parent  is,  there  is  consolation  in  knowing  Heaven  has  spared 
ours  to  an  age  which  few  attain,  and  favored  her  with  the 
full  enjoyment  of  her  mental  faculties,  and  as  much  bodily 
strength  as  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of  four- score.  Under 
these  considerations,  and  a  hope  that  she  is  translated  to  a 
happier  place,  it  is  the  duty  of  her  relatives  to  yield  due 
submission  to  the  decrees  of  the  Creator." 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  441 

Washington  carried  into  his  life,  as  President,  the  same 
habits  of  strict  economy  that  he  practiced  at  home,  yet  he 
found  it  impossible  often  to  come  within  the  sum  of  $25,000, 
which  had  been  voted  by  Congress  as  his  salary,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  resort  to  his  private  income  to  meet  his  cur- 
rent expenses.  Only  the  departments  of  treasury,  war,  and 
foreign  affairs,  were  formed  during  this  session  of  Congress, 
and  it  adjourned  in  the  latter  part  of  September.  Hamilton 
was  appointed  Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  Jefferson  was  at 
the  head  of  Foreign  Affairs,  which  office  also  embraced  that 
of  Secretary  of  State,  while  Knox  was  retained  Secretary 
of  War.  Edmund  Randolph  was  appointed  Attorney  Gene- 
ral, and  John  Jay  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Supreme  Court. 
The  different  appointments  caused  much  perplexity,  but  the 
President,  by  adopting  one  principle,  viz.,  to  select  men 
solely  for  their  qualifications  and  capacity  to  fill  the  office 
in  which  they  were  placed,  succeeded  in  convincing  most 
of  the  wisdom  of  his  course. 

When  Congress  adjourned,  he  took  advantage  of  the  ses- 
sion to  make  a  tour  through  the  Eastern  States.  He  was 
absent  a  month  visiting  various  localities,  but  he  studiously 
avoided  Rhode  Island,  because  she  had  not  yet  come  into 
the  Union.  Every  step  of  his  progress  was  an  ovation,  and 
he  could  scarcely  move  without  having  his  carriage  sur- 
rounded by  enthusiastic  multitudes,  while  congratulations 
poured  in  upon  him  from  every  side.  The  proofs  of  rising 
prospects  and  increasing  wealth  which  appeared  in  the  New 
England  States  gratified  him  exceedingly,  and  he  returned 
to  New  York  not  only  much  improved  in  health,  but  cheered 
also  at  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  people  with  their  new 
government. 

The  passing  of  proper  laws,  the  payment  of  foreign  loans 
and  home  debts,  and  all  the  machinery  of  a  new  govern- 
ment, by  turns  occupied  Congress,  and  necessarily  deeply 
engaged  the  mind  of  the  President.  A  short  visit  to  Rhode 


442  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

Island,  which  had  at  length  come  into  the  confederation, 
was  the  only  relaxation  he  took  during  this  session  of  Con- 
gress. At  its  adjournment  he  visited  again  Mount  Vernon, 
but  its  quiet  walls  and  secluded  haunts  could  no  longer  dis- 
tract his  attention  from  public  affairs.  Our  relations  with 
England  were  not  promising,  while  those  with  Spain  assumed 
a  still  more  unfavorable  character.  These  two  nations, 
one  at  the  north  and  the  other  at  the  south,  stirred  up  the 
Indians  to  hostilities,  and  kept  our  frontiers  drenched  in 
blood. 

In  his  dealings  with  the  Indians  Washington  always 
adopted  a  humane  policy.  He  recognized  all  their  rights, 
and  treated  them  in  every  way  as  if  they  were  civilized 
nations.  His  course  would  doubtless  have  been  successful 
but  for  the  intrigues  of  England  and  Spain.  At  length, 
however,  forbearance  became  a  crime,  and  he  commenced 
open  hostilities  against  them.  The  defeat  of  Harmar  and 
afterwards  of  St.  Clair  protracted  the  war,  so  that  it  con- 
tinued through  nearly  the  whole  first  term  of  his  adminis- 
tration, and  drew  heavily  upon  the  Treasury.  There  is  an 
incident  connected  with  the  overthrow  of  St.  Clair,  which 
illustrates  Washington's  love  of  justice.  An  adjutant  gene- 
ral, Sargeant,  who  was  wounded  in  the  battle,  escaped  and 
hastened  immediately  to  the  seat  of  government  with  the 
disastrous  news.  Being  a  man  of  wealth  he  was  enabled  to 
get  transported  rapidly,  and  hence  outstripped  the  courier 
several  days.  Washington  invited  him  to  Mount  Vernon, 
where  he  remained  till  St.  Clair's  despatches  arrived ;  yet 
during  all  this  time  never  asked  a  question  respecting  St. 
Clair's  defeat.  Although  much  distressed  and  deeply  anxious 
about  the  event,  he  was  afraid  he  might  hear  a  partial 
account,  and  thus  be  induced  to  decide  unjustly.  Sargeant 
said  that  during  the  whole  time  he  was  at  his  house  no  one 
would  have  known  a  battle  had  been  fought  but  from  Wash- 
ington's inquiry  every  morning  respecting  his  wound. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  443 

At  length,  in  1793,  Wayne  was  appointed  commander  of 
the  forces  in  the  north-west,  and  by  one  terrible  blow  pros- 
trated the  Indians  and  restored  peace. 

Congress  having  changed  the  place  of  sitting  from  New 
York  to  Philadelphia — it  met  at  the  latter  place  in  the  fore 
part  of  December,  1790.  The  National  Bank,  established 
this  session,  awakened  much  opposition,  but  Washington, 
after  mature  deliberation,  approved  the  project.  With  Con- 
gress he  was  deeply  engaged  during  the  winter  in  completing 
various  plans  of  policy,  and  labored  unceasingly  to  perfect 
the  government. 

When  Congress  adjourned  in  the  spring,  he  made  a  trip 
to  the  Southern  States,  going  as  far  south  as  Savannah. 
The  whole  journey  of  eighteen  hundred  and  eighty-seven 
miles,  was  made  with  the  same  horses  and  carriage.  His 
presence  everywhere  was  hailed  with  delight,  and  he 
returned  more  and  more  convinced  that  a  great  and  glorious 
future  was  before  his  country. 

At  the  next  session  of  Congress,  the  elements  of  those 
two  terrible  factions,  Federalists  and  Democrats,  began  to 
develop  themselves  more  fully,  and  filled  Washington  with 
the  gravest  fears.  Hamilton  and  Jefferson,  represented 
those  two  classes  of  opinions  and  feelings  in  the  country, 
and  soon  assumed  a  hostile  attitude  to  each  other.  The 
former  was  for  concentrating  more  power  in  the  central 
government,  by  removing  it  from  the  separate  states — the 
latter  for  taking  more  power  from  the  federal  government 
and  bestowing  it  on  the  states.  Seeing  the  bitterness  of 
feeling  which  these  different  views  caused  between  his  Sec- 
retary of  the  State  and  of  the  Treasury,  and  fearing  the 
animosity  that  it  would  create  in  the  country,  Washington 
used  all  his  influence  to  bring  about  some  reconciliation  or 
compromise.  His  letters  and  appeals  to  each  breathed  the 
spirit  of  kindness  and  patriotism,  but  nothing  could  allay 
the  fire  which  had  been  kindled,  and  it  blazed  on  fiercer  and 


444  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

fiercer  till  the  overthrow  of  the  Federalists,  in  the  war  of 
1812,  ended  the  strife.  Against  himself,  as  the  leader  of 
the  Federalists,  all  the  venom  and  malignity  of  the  Demo- 
crats were  levelled. 

In  a  letter,  speaking  of  the  political  animosity  which  had 
pursued  him,  he  says,  "  Until  within  the  last  year  or  two  I 
did  not  believe  that  parties  would  or  ever  could  go  the 
length  I  have  been  witness  to ;  nor  did  I  believe,  until 
lately,  that  it  was  within  the  bounds  of  probability,  hardly 
within  those  of  possibility,  that,  while  I  was  using  my 
utmost  exertions  to  establish  a  national  character  of  our 
own,  independent,  as  far  as  our  obligations  and  justice  would 
permit,  of  every  nation  of  the  earth,  and  wished  by  steering 
a  steady  course-,  to  preserve  this  country  from  the  horrors 
of  a  desolating  war,  I  should  be  accused  of  being  the 
enemy  of  one  nation,  and  subject  to  the  influence  of  an- 
other ;  and  to  prove  it,  that  every  act  of  my  administration 
would  be  tortured,  and  the  grossest  and  most  invidious  mis- 
representations of  them  be  made,  by  giving  one  side  only 
of  a  subject,  and  that  too  in  such  exaggerated  and  indecent 
terms  as  could  scarcely  be  applied  to  a  Nero,  a  notorious 
defaulter,  or  even  to  a  common  pickpocket.  But  enough  of 
this.  I  have  already  gone  further  in  the  expression  of  my 
feelings  than  I  intended."  It  seems  hardly  possible,  at  this 
day,  that  men  could  have  been  found  so  lost  to  reason,  truth 
and  virtue,  as  to  load  Washington  with  aspersions  such  as 
he  here  himself  declares  were  heaped  upon  him.  But 
political  malignity  always  becomes  personal,  and  is  just  as 
deep  and  unsparing. 

"When  the  term  of  his  administration  drew  to  a  close,  he 
hoped  that  he  would  be  permitted  to  retire  to  private  life 
and  spend  the  remnant  of  his  days  in  quietness  and  peace. 
His  known  reluctance  to  accept  the  first  nomination, 
created  great  fear  among  all  parties,  lest  he  should  utterly 
refuse  to  accept  a  second.  The  hatred  of  faction  gave  way 


Washington  at  the  Death  Bed  of  young-  <  'ustis. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  447 

to  t.larm  in  view  of  the  disaster  that  might  follow  his  deser- 
tion of  the  helm  of  state.  Those  who  afterward  became 
his  enemies  urged  him  not  to  think  of  retiring,  declaring 
that  his  commanding  influence  and  wisdom  were  indispens- 
able in  order  to  fix  firmly  and  forever,  that  which  had  only 
settled  into  transient  repose,  and  if  he  did  not  remain  the 
whole  tottering  fabric  would  fall.  By  all  that  was  dear  to 
the  Union,  they  besought  him  not  to  expose  it  at  last  to 
overthrow.  They  knew  that  Washington's  weak  side  was 
his  patriotism,  and  they  plied  it  with  appeals  and  arguments 
in  turn,  till  at  length  he  yielded,  and  on  the  fourth  of 
March,  1793,  was  again  inaugurated  President  of  the  United 
States. 

For  the  last  three  years  the  rumblings  of  the  coming 
earthquake  in  France,  had  startled  Europe  from  her  long 
repose,  and  Washington  watched  the  progress  of  events 
with  the  deepest  interest,  not  only  from  the  principles  that 
were  involved,  but  because  the  fate  of  Lafayette,  he  knew, 
would  be  that  of  republicanism.  At  length  the  Bastile  fell, 
and  Lafayette,  through  Tom  Paine,  sent  to  him  the  key  of 
that  strong  fortress  of  tyranny  and  secret  dungeon  of  op- 
pressed men.  The  National  Assembly  also  wrote  him  a 
letter,  closing  with  "  May  the  individuals  of  the  two  nations 
connect  themselves  by  a  mutual  affection,  worthy  of  the 
friendship  which  unites  the  two  men,  at  this  day  most  illus- 
trious by  their  exertions  for  liberty,  Washington  and  La- 
fayette." But  the  joy  which  the  apparent  regeneration  of 
France  had  occasioned,  gave  way  to  alarm  as  the  car  of 
revolution  rolled  on  in  blood,  and  soon  Europe  was  in  arms 
to  arrest  its  farther  progress.  England  at  length  having 
joined  the  crusade  for  the  overthrow  of  liberty,  declared 
war  against  France.  This  threatened  to  augment  most 
seriously  the  difficulties  that  surrounded  the  commencement 
)?  Washington's  second  administration.  He  immediately 
submitted  to  the  cabinet  several  queries  respecting  the 

24 


448  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

policy  it  was  necessary  and  right  for  the  United  States  to 
pursue. 

They  having  answered  these  inquiries,  he  by  their  advice 
issued  a  proclamation  of  strict  neutrality  between  the  two 
powers.  Not  only  from  the  fact  that  France  was  struggling 
for  liberty,  the  very  principles  of  which  had  been  trans- 
planted from  this  country,  but  also  as  toward  an  ally  and 
friend  who  had  just  poured  out  her  treasures  and  her  blood 
in  our  behalf,  this  proclamation  kindled  into  fury  all  the 
latent  fire  that  had  been  so  long  partially  smothered,  and 
from  that  moment  the  secret  opponents  of  Washington 
became  more  and  more  his  open  enemies,  and  a  relentless 
war  was  waged  against  him  till  the  close  of  his  administra- 
tion. It  was  denounced  as  faithless  to  France  and  obse- 
quious to  England,  and  worse  than  all,  declared  a  mere 
party  measure  adopted  by  his  advisers  to  secure  a  political 
end.  The  charge  of  striving  to  force  this  country  into  a 
useless  war,  of  sympathising  with  .wholesale  slaughter  of 
women  and  children,  were  retorted  on  the  democrats,  and 
that  strife  of  factions  rapidly  gathered  strength  and  in- 
creased in  ferocity,  till  it  shook  the  federal  government  to 
its  foundation. 

While  this  state  of  feeling  was  dividing  the  country,  Mr 
Genet,  minister  from  the  French  Republic,  arrived  on  our 
shores.  Landing  at  Charleston,  he  was  received  with  such 
enthusiasm  that  he  believed  the  United  States  were  ready 
to  rush  to  arms  to  help  their  sister  republic,  who  was  only 
striving  to  carry  out  the  principles  of  liberty  and  equality 
which  her  armies  had  learned  in  our  long  and  almost  hope- 
less struggle.  He  went  so  far  in  his  extravagances  as  to 
order  vessels  to  be  fitted  out  as  privateers  in  the  very  harbor 
of  Charleston.  These  in  time  returned  with  prizes,  which 
called  forth  a  remonstrance  from  the  British  minister.  The 
American  government  immediately  forbade  the  fitting  out 
of  privateers,  which  brought  forth  angry  and  impertinent 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  449 

letters  from  Genet  to  the  Secretary  of  State.  He  even 
disregarded  the  declaration  of  our  government  and  kept 
sending  vessels  to  sea,  which,  in  turn,  caused  more  stringent 
measures  to  be  adopted.  This,  of  course,  excited  still  more 
violently  the  French  minister,  and  in  the  blindness  of  his 
rage,  he  dared  to  threaten  Washington,  declaring  that  he 
had  usurped  the  power  of  Congress,  and  even  hinted  at  an 
appeal  to  the  people.  Washington,  feeling  that  the  dignity 
of  the  country  required  that  he  should  no  longer  tolerate 
this  insulting  conduct,  directed  that  a  request  should  be 
immediately  forwarded  to  France,  asking  his  recall. 

This  had  become  the  more  necessary,  from  the  fact  that 
die  Frenc  minister  had  begun  to  organize  societies  over 
the  land  favorable  to  his  views. 

Our  relations  with  England  were  still  more  complicated. 
Morose  from  the  loss  of  her  fairest  colonies,  and  determined 
to  narrow  down  their  limits  as  much  as  possible,  she  held 
forts  on  our  soil,  and  sustained  the  Indians  on  our  frontiers 
in  their  hostilities.  She  also  impressed  American  seamen, 
and  her  privateers  seized  American  goods  on  the  high  seas. 
To  vex  France,  she  also  issued  two  orders,  one  authorizing 
the  seizure  of  all  American  ships  laden  with  breadstuiFs,  if 
bound  to  France ;  and  another  detaining  all  vessels  freighted 
with  goods  or  provisions,  sailing  from  any  port  of  France, 
or  of  her  colonies.  These  orders  struck  down,  with  a  single 
blow,  neutral  rights.  The  President,  in  his  annual  message 
of  1793,  took  strong  ground  against  them,  declaring  that 
the  United  States  should  claim  and  maintain  its  rank  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  that  the  only  way  to  secure 
peace,  was  to  let  it  be  known  they  were  always  ready  for 
war.  Fox,  the  leader  of  the  opposition  in  the  British  Par- 
liament, alluding  to  this  message  of  Washington,  drew 
a  contrast  between  Washington  and  the  ministers  of  Great 
Britain,  in  which  he  said,  "  How  infinitely  more  wise  must 
appear  the  spirit  and  principles  manifested  in  his  late  ad- 


450  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

dress  to  Congress,  than  the  policy  of  modern  European 
courts.  Illustrious  man!  desiring  honor  less  from  the 
splendor  of  his  situation  than  from  the  dignity  of  his  mind." 
He  declared  that  the  potentates  of  Europe  sank  into  insig- 
nificance before  him.  "  For  him,"  said  he,  "  it  has  been 
reserved  to  run  the  race  of  glory  without  experiencing  the 
smallest  interruption  to  the  brilliancy  of  his  career." 

Erskine,  afterwards  Lord  Erskine,  wrote  to  him,  saying, 
"  I  have  a  large  acquaintance  among  the  most  valuable  and 
exalted  classes  of  men,  but  you  are  the  only  human  being 
for  whom  I  ever  felt  an  awful  reverence."  As  in  the  field, 
so  in  the  cabinet,  amid  internal  troubles  and  outward 
difficulties,  his  character  shone  forth  with  undimmed  and 
constant  brilliancy. 

The  difficulties  with  the  mother  country,  however,  kept 
increasing,  and  a  second  war  seemed  inevitable.  As  a  last 
experiment,  he  determined  to  send  Mr.  Jay  as  minister 
plenipotentiary  to  England,  to  see  if  an  amicable  adjustment 
might  not  be  made,  and  a  treaty  secured.  Congress,  turbu- 
lent with  contending  factions,  at  length  adjourned,  and  the 
public  mind  turned  to  watch  the  effect  of  Jay's  mission. 
But  while  much  hope  was  entertained  from  his  efforts,  and 
the  prospects  of  peace  seemed  to  brighten,  internal  insur- 
rections menaced  us  with  more  immediate  and  imminent 
dangers 

The  tax  on  distilled  spirits,  which  had  been  levied  by 
Congress,  a  few  years  before,  caused  at  this  time  great  com- 
motion. This,  instead  of  subsiding  with  time,  had  kept  on 
increasing,  and  now  had  reached  a  point  threatening  civil 
war.  The  officers  were  violently  treated  in  the  discharge 
of  their  duties,  and  bands  of  armed  men  set  at  defiance  the 
authority  of  the  general  government.  Painful  as  the  alter- 
native was,  there  was  no  choice  left  but  to  meet  force  with 
force.  Preparatory  to  more  serious  measures,  Washington 
issued  a  proclamation,  commanding  the  insurgents  to  dis- 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  451 

perse  before  the  first  of  September,  or  he  would  call  out  the 
militia  to  enforce  the  laws.  The  insurgents,  numbering  it 
was  supposed  some  sixteen  thousand  men,  were  congregated 
chiefly  in  the  western  part  of  Pennsylvania,  but  there  were 
many  also  in  New  Jersey,  Maryland,  and  Virginia.  Wash- 
ington was,  at  length,  compelled  to  call  out  the  militia. 
Accompanied  by  the  Secretary  of  War,  he  visited  the  two 
places  of  rendezvous  of  his  troops  (Cumberland  and  Bed- 
ford), and  then  ordered  them  to  march  across  the  Allegha- 
nies,  and  disperse,  at  all  hazards,  the  insurgents.  This  im- 
posing force  overawed  all  opposition,  and  peace  was  restored 
without  the  shedding  of  blood. 

The  Constitution  requiring  all  treaties  to  be  ratified  by 
the  Senate,  Washington  issued  a  proclamation  requiring 
that  body  to  assemble  in  June.  I  shall  not  here  discuss 
that  treaty.  That  it  was  such  an  one  in  its  conditions  as 
this  country  would  at  present  make  no  one  believes. 
Washington  did  not  wholly  approve  of  it.  He  considered 
it  incomplete  and  unsatisfactory,  but  the  choice  lay  between 
this  treaty  and  war.  As  the  national  honor  had  not  been 
sacrificed,  he  thought  this  partial  settlement  of  the  difficul- 
ties between  the  two  countries  was  better  than  an  open 
rupture. 

The  Senate  occupied  two  weeks  in  discussing  this  treaty 
and  finally  only  by  a  bare  constitutional  majority,  advised 
its  ratification.  Nor  could  this  vote  be  obtained  except  by 
excluding  one  article  in  it  which  prohibited  American  vessels 
from  transporting  molasses,  sugar,  coffee,  cocoa  and  cotton 
either  from  the  United  States  or  West  India  Islands  to  any 
other  part  of  the  world.  Ships  not  exceeding  seventy  tons 
might  carry  the  products  of  the  States  to  the  islands — no- 
thing more.  This  of  course  the  southern  members  would 
not  for  a  moment  listen  to.  The  conduct  of  the  Senate  em- 
barrassed Washington  much.  He  was  not  certain  that  this 
could  be  called  a  ratification  till  the  excluded  article  was 


452  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

re-submitted  to  the  English  government.  If  it  was  not,  his 
signature  to  the  treaty  would  be  clearly  improper.  In  the 
meantime  a  senator  gave  a  copy  of  the  treaty  to  the  editor 
of  a  newspaper,  and  it  was  published.  Thus  cast  before 
the  public,  unaccompanied  by  any  of  the  diplomatic  corre- 
spondence, explanations,  &c.,  it  kindled  into  sudden  and 
fierce  conflagration  the  angry  feeling  that  had  been  partially 
slumbering.  It  was  everywhere  received  with  clamors, 
with  taunts  and  fierce  denunciations.  Public  meetings  were 
called,  and  national  pride  and  honor  so  vehemently  appealed 
to,  that  a  feeling  was  raised,  which  for  a  time  threatened  to 
sweep  away  the  administration.  Bold  and  threatening 
resolutions  were  sent  to  the  President  from  Boston.  To 
settle  the  question  at  once,  and  allay  the  disorders,  and  pre- 
vent public  demonstrations  against  the  executive,  Washing- 
ton called  together  his  cabinet,  and  submitted  to  it  the 
question  of  ratification.  All  but  the  Secretary  of  State 
advised  it,  and  on  the  18th  of  August  he  signed  the  treaty 
with  the  condition  annexed,  and  sent  it  accompanied  by 
a  remonstrance  to  the  British  government  against  the 
obnoxious  article,  which  had  the  desired  effect,  and  it  was 
excluded. 

The  day  after  Randolph,  Secretary  of  State,  resigned  his 
office.  A  letter  from  M.  Fauchet,  the  French  minister, 
deeply  implicating  his  character,  had  been  intercepted  at 
sea  and  sent  to  the  British  cabinet,  and  by  them  forwarded 
to  Mr.  Hammon,  British  minister  at  Philadelphia.  The 
latter  gentleman  handed  it  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 
who  translated  it.  "Washington  was  immediately  sent  for  at 
Mount  Vernon,  and  as  soon  as  he  arrived  the  letter  was 
shown  him.  In  it  were  plain  intimations  that  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph was  working  for  the  interests  of  the  French  nation, 
and  could  be  bought  over  still  further,  in  short  was  false  to 
his  position,  and  the  trust  reposed  in  him.  Washington,  in 
the  presence  of  his  cabinet,  quietly  handed  Mr.  Randolph 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  453 

this  letter  and  asked  for  an  explanation.  The  latter  was 
indignant  that  the  matter  had  not  been  submitted  to  him 
privately  before  it  was  brought  before  the  cabinet,  and  the 
same  day  handed  in  his  resignation.  In  a  note  to  the  Presi- 
dent, he  requested  that  this  letter,  so  deeply  implicating  his 
character,  should  be  kept  secret  until  he  should  have  time  to 
secure  a  thorough  and  full  investigation,  which  would  esta- 
blish his  innocence.  His  request  was  complied  with,  yet 
he  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  have  the  investigation  take  place, 
and  never  did  exculpate  himself  wholly  from  blame.  He 
delayed,  hesitated,  pretended  papers  were  withheld,  &c., 
when  he  had  free  access  to  all  of  Washington's  papers,  both 
public  and  private,  with  full  permission  to  use  them  in  his 
own  defense.  Mr.  Pickering,  from  the  War  Department, 
took  his  place,  and  James  M.  Henry  of  Baltimore,  became 
Secretary  of  War. 

When  Congress  assembled  (March  29th),  it  refused  to 
enact  the  laws  necessary  to  carry  the  treaty  into  effect,  and 
by  a  large  majority  passed  a  resolution  requesting  the  Pre- 
sident to  lay  before  them  his  instructions  to  Mr.  Jay,  with 
all  the  documents  bearing  on  the  negotiations.  To  refuse 
would  be  regarded  a  tacit  confession  of  improper  conduct 
on  his  part,  by  his  enemies,  while  to  accede  would  be  yield- 
ing the  prerogatives  belonging  to  his  office,  and  allowing 
encroachments  which  the  constitution  had  guarded  against. 
That  instrument  placed  the  treaty-making  power  in  the 
President  and  Senate.  Though  much  troubled  at  the 
dilemma  in  which  he  was  placed,  Washington  refused  to 
comply  with  the  request,  and  gave  as  his  reasons  the  uncon- 
stitutionally of  it,  and  the  dangerous  and  mischievous  ten- 
dency of  adopting  such  a  precedent.  The  House  was  con- 
founded with  this  refusal,  and  for  days  after  the  hall  rung 
with  angry  denunciations,  which  were  combated  with  solid 
reason  and  calm  judgment.  The  members,  however,  at  last 
yielded.  Still  there  was  much  bitter  feeling  engendered 


454  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

throughout  the  country,  and  one  would  have  thought  from 
the  tone  and  language  of  many  of  the  papers,  that  Wash- 
ington, instead  of  being  the  defender  and  liberator  of  his 
country,  was  its  greatest  foe  and  oppressor.  But  as  he  had 
stood  amid  a  mutinous  army,  under  the  suspicious  distrust 
and  neglect  of  Congress,  and  in  the  night  of  disaster  and 
gloom  of  the  revolution,  so  now  he  stood  calm  and  unmoved 
amid  the  assaults  of  political  foes,  and  under  the  false  accu- 
sations of  unscrupulous  detractors. 

In  writing  to  Knox,  he  says,  in  speaking  of  his  enemies, 
"  The  consolation,  however,  which  results  from  conscious 
rectitude,  deprives  their  sting  of  its  poison;"  and  again, 
"  Next  to  a  conscientious  discharge  of  my  public  duties,  to 
carry  along  with  me  the  approbation  of  my  constituents, 
would  be  the  highest  gratification  my  mind  is  susceptible 
of;  but  the  latter  being  secondary,  I  cannot  make  the  for- 
mer yield  to  it,  unless  some  criterion  more  infallible  than 
partial  (if  they  are  not  party)  meetings  can  be  discovered, 
as  the  touchstone  of  public  sentiment.  If  any  power  on 
earth  could,  or  the  Great  Power  above  would,  erect  the 
standard  of  infallibility  in  political  opinions,  there  is  no 
being  that  inhabits  this  terrestrial  globe,  that  would  resort 
to  it  with  more  eagerness  than  myself,  so  long  as  I  remain 
a  servant  of  the  public.  But  as  I  have  found  no  better 
guides  hitherto  than  upright  intentions  and  close  investiga- 
tion, I  shall  adhere  to  those  maxims,  while  I  keep  the 
watch ;  leaving  to  those  who  will  come  after  me,  to  explore 
new  ways,  if  they  like  or  think  them  better."  In  looking 
back  from  this  distant  point  to  the  party  feuds  and  political 
distractions  of  those  times,  how  lofty,  how  infinitely  elevated 
above  all  his  traducers  and  enemies  does  the  character  of 
Washington  appear.  Living  in  an  atmosphere  of  truth 
and  sincerity,  seeking  no  selfish  ends,  but  with  an  eye 
single  to  his  country's  good,  he  by  the  mere  majesty  of 
virtue  alone,  triumphs  over  all  opposition,  and  finds  his 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  455 

way  to  the  innermost  heart  of  the  people.  Neither 
partizan  leaders  nor  loud-mouthed  demagogues  nor  cun- 
ning detractors  could  shake  the  faith  of  the  nation  in 
him  their  more  than  father.  That  faith  of  the  masses 
in  his  truth  and  integrity,  rising  over  all  the  efforts 
of  political  leaders,  is  the  highest  eulogium  on  their  own 
virtue,  and  shows  that  they  were  worthy  of  the  freedom 
they  had  achieved. 

In  the  meantime,  Randolph  had  prepared  his  vindication, 
as  he  termed  it.  The  pamphlet  was  characterized  by  great 
bitterness  of  feeling,  and  unjust  aspersions  of  Washington. 
Ingersoll,  of  Philadelphia,  happened  into  the  apartment  of 
the  latter  just  after  he  had  received  it,  and  witnessed  one  of 
those  sudden  explosions  of  wrath  which  terrified  the  be- 
holder. He  found,  he  said,  Mrs.  Washington,  and  other 
ladies,  cowering  in  a  corner  like  frightened  doves  over 
which  an  eagle  is  hovering,  and  gazing  with  silent  terror 
on  the  wrathful  visage  of  Washington,  fairly  blazing  with 
passion,  while  a  torrent  of  invective  poured  from  his  lips. 
The  duplicity,  falsehood,  and  ingratitude  displayed  in  this 
"vindication,"  for  a  moment  unmanned  him,  and  he 
became  the  lion  he  sometimes  was  on  the  battle  field. 

The  private  life  of  Washington,  at  this  time,  was  charac- 
terized by  the  great  formality  which  distinguished  that 
period.  He  rarely,  if  ever,  walked  out  alone,  but,  dressed 
in  black,  with  a  secretary  on  each  side,  and  all  three  wear- 
ing cocked  hats,  would  stride  majestically  and  silently  along, 
apparently  no  more  conscious  of  the  presence  of  those  attend- 
ing him,  than  of  his  own  shadow.  He  often  took  drives  in 
a  handsome  cream-colored  coach,  with  four  horses,  into  the 
country ;  but  on  Sunday,  in  going  to  church,  he  used  but 
two  horses.  The  livery  of  his  servants  was  white,  trimmed 
with  gay  colors,  and  when,  with  his  coach  and  six,  he  drove 
to  the  Senate,  his  appointments  bore  but  faint  resemblance 
to  those  of  a  republican  President  of  the  present  day.  The 


456  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

following  description,  by  Richard  Rush,  of  his  appearance 
on  great  state  occasions,  is  very  graphic : — 

"  Washington  was  to  open  the  session  of  Congress  by 
going  in  person,  as  was  his  custom,  to  deliver  a  speech  to 
both  houses,  assembled  in  the  chamber  of  the  House  of 
Representatives.  The  crowd  was  immense.  It  filled  the 
whole  area  in  Chestnut  street  before  the  State  House, 
extended  along  the  line  of  Chestnut  street  above  Sixth 
street,  and  spread  north  and  south  some  distance  along  the 
latter.  A  way  kept  open  for  carriages  in  the  middle  of  the 
street,  was.  the  only  space  not  closely  packed  with  people. 
I  had  a  stand  on  the  steps  of  one  of  the  houses  in  Chestnut 
street,  which,  raising  me  above  the  mass  of  human  heads, 
enabled  me  to  see  to  advantage.  After  waiting  long  hours 
as  it  seemed  to  a  boy's  impatience,  the  carriage  of  the  Pre- 
sident at  length  slowly  drove  up,  drawn  by  four  beautiful 
bay  horses.  It  was  white,  with  medallion  ornaments  on  the 
panels,  and  the  livery  of  the  servants,  as  well  as  I  remem- 
ber, was  white,  turned  up  with  red,  at  any  rate  a  glowing 
livery — the  entire  display  of  equipage  at  that  era,  in  our 
country  generally,  and  in  Philadelphia  in  particular,  while 
the  seat  of  government,  being  more  rich  and  varied  than 
now,  though  fewer  in  number.  Washington  got  out  of  his 
carriage,  and,  slowly  crossing  the  pavement,  ascended  the 
steps  of  the  edifice,  upon  the  upper  platform  of  which  he 
paused,  and,  turning  half  round,  looked  in  the  direction  of 
a  carriage  which  had  followed  the  lead  of  his  own.  Thus 
he  stood  for  a  minute,  distinctly  seen  by  every  body.  He 
stood  in  all  his  civic  dignity  and  moral  grandeur — erect, 
serene,  majestic.  His  costume  was  a  full  suit  of  black  vel- 
vet, his  hair,  itself  blanched  by  time,  powdered  to  snowy 
whiteness,  a  dross  sword  by  his  side,  and  his  hat  held  in  his 
hand.  Thus  he  stood  in  silence,  and  what  moments  those 
were !  Throughout  the  dense  crowd  profound  stillness 
reigned.  Not  a  word  was  heard,  not  a  breath.  Palpitations 


\V:i?liiii','!<)!i  i:il:in'.r  leave '.fill*    M"tli'-r. 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  459 

took  the  place  of  sounds.  It  was  a  feeling  infinitely  beyond 
that  which  vents  itself  in  shouts.  Every  heart  was  full 
In  vain  would  any  tongue  have  spoken. 

"All  were  gazing,  in  mute,  unutterable  admiration 
Every  eye  was  riveted  on  that  form — the  greatest,  purest, 
most  exalted  of  mortals.  It  might  have  seemed  as  if  he 
stood  in  that  position  to  gratify  the  assembled  thousands 
with  a  full  view  of  the  father  of  his  country.  Not  so.  He 
had  paused  for  his  secretary,  then,  I  believe,  Mr.  Dandridge 
or  Colonel  Lear,  who  got  out  of  the  other  carriage,  a  chariot, 
decorated  like  his  own.  The  secretary,  ascending  the  steps, 
handed  him  a  paper — probably  a  copy  of  the  speech  he  was 
to  deliver — when  both  entered  the  building.  Then  it  was, 
and  not  till  then,  that  the  crowd  sent  up  huzzas,  loud,  long, 
earnest,  enthusiastic."* 

To  the  embarrassments  which  .surrounded  him  resulting 
from  Jay's  treaty,  and  his  own  refusal  to  send  to  Congress 
the  papers  relating  to  it,  was  added  the  deepest  solicitude 
for  his  friend  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette.  This  nobleman 
was  at  first  the  idol  of  the  French  populace,  but  in  the 
opposing  tides  of  revolution  he  had  been  stranded,  and  was 
now  languishing  in  an  Austrian  prison.  We  had  at  that 
time  no  representative  in  Austria  or  Prussia,  and  Washing- 
ton could  not  therefore  appeal  directly  to  those  governments, 
still  through  our  ministers  at  other  foreign  courts,  he  inter- 
ceded unceasingly  for  his  deliverance.  He  sent  also  to  the 
British  cabinet  requesting  its  powerful  mediation,  but  in 
vain.  As  a  last  resort  he  wrote  direct  to  the  Emperor  of 
Germany,  asking  as  a  boon,  a  great  personal  favor,  that 
Lafayette  might  be  permitted  to  come  to  America,  promis- 
ing to  regard  sacredly  any  instructions  under  which  he 
might  embark.  At  length  he  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
that  Lafayette  had  been  delivered  over  to  the  American 

*  From  the  Republican  Court,  by  Rufus  Griswold. 


460  LIFE   OF   WASHINGTON. 

consul  at  Hamburg,  and  of  communicating  the  glad  intelli- 
gence to  young  George  Washington  Lafayette,  who  had  been 
for  two  years  a  resident  in  his  house.  Harassed  by  the 
difficulties  with  France  and  England,  that  seemed  farther 
than  ever  from  permanent  settlement — well  convinced  in 
his  own  mind  that  unless  the  policy  and  spirit  of  the  British 
government  changed,  another  war  with  that  power  was  in- 
evitable, he  saw  with  relief  his  second  term  of  office  draw- 
ing to  a  close.  Turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  proposals  for 
reelection  for  a  third  term,  he  devoted  much  of  his  thoughts 
to  a  Farewell  Address  to  his  countrymen.  Among  the 
noble  legacies  which  he  left  to  his  country,  none  is  more 
worthy  of  being  treasured  in  the  heart  of  the  people  than 
this  address.  Through  all  its  wise  counsels,  noble  maxims, 
and  elevated  thought,  the  spirit  of  undying  patriotism 
breathes  like  the  undertone  of  an  organ,  through  some 
grand  and  soul-subduing  anthem.  His  bitterest  foes  forgot 
for  awhile  the  animosity  they  had  entertained  against  him, 
and  the  hardest  heart  was  touched  by  this  last  proof  of  de- 
votion to  his  country.  That  address  will  never  grow  old. 
It  cannot  be  read  at  this  day  without  awakening  patriotism 
in  the  dullest  heart,  and  causing  it  to  sigh  over  the  ambition 
and  selfishness  of  our  modern  rulers. 

John  Adams  was  elected  to  fill  his  place,  and  he  waited 
to  witness  his  inauguration.  Afterward  a  grand  parting 
entertainment  was  given  to  Washington.  Sparks  relates 
the  following  anecdote  as  coming  from  Bishop  White  :  "On 
the  clav  before  President  Washington  retired  from  office,  a 

«/  o 

large  company  dined  with  him.  Among  them  were  the 
foreign  ministers  and  their  ladies,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Adams, 
Mr.  Jefferson  and  other  distinguished  persons  of  both  sexes. 
During  the  day  much  hilarity  prevailed,  but  on  the  removal 
of  the  cloth,  it  was  put  an  end  to  by  the  President,  cer- 
tainly without  design.  Having  filled  his  glass,  he  addressed 
the  company,  with  a  smile,  as  nearly  as  can  be  recollected 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  461 

in  the  following  words :  « Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  the 
last  time  I  shall  drink  your  health  as  a  public  man :  I  do  it 
with  sincerity,  wishing  you  all  possible  happiness.'  There 
was  an  end  of  all  pleasantry.  He  who  gives  this  relation, 
accidentally  directed  his  eye  to  the  lady  of  the  British 
minister,  Mrs.  Listen,  and  tears  were  running  down  her 
cheeks." 

A  simple  citizen  once  more,  he  turned  his  weary  footsteps 
toward  the  quiet  shades  of  Mount  Vernon.  But  the  people 
knew  no  difference,  he  was  still  their  father,  and  military 
escorts,  and  crowds  of  men  and  women,  blocked  his  way, 
and  he  was  borne  by  the  huzzas  and  blessings  of  the  people 
almost  to  the  gates  of  his  dwelling. 

It  is  difficult,  at  this  remote  period,  to  review  in  detail  his 
administration,  for  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  difficul- 
ties and  embarrassments  that  surround  an  entirely  new 
government,  whose  foundation  stones  and  whole  structure 
were  so  widely  different  from  all  others.  Things  which 
now  appear  plain  as  noonday,  had  to  be  worked  laboriously 
up  to  the  light,  and  the  first  rude  form  reduced  from  the 
chaotic  elements  before  the  details  could  be  furnished.  It 
is  enough,  however,  to  convince  us  of  the  wisdom  and  saga- 
city of  his  administration,  that  a  glorious  future  rested  on 
it  as  a  base.  No  other  man  could  have  put  us  even  on  firm 
footing,  much  less  consolidated  us  into  a  sound  government, 
strong  at  home  and  respected  abroad. 

Much  has  been  said  of  the  hostile  feeling  entertained 
toward  Washington  by  Jefferson,  and  many  charges  and 
criminations  grew  out  of  this  animosity.  These  differences, 
however,  were  chiefly  political — the  two  stood  at  tlie  head 
of  the  great  factions,  Federalists  and  Democrats,  and  of  course 
differed  toto  calo  in  their  views  of  government.  Political 
animosity,  it  is  well  known,  is  the  most  unsparing  of  all 
hatreds,  and  yet  it  could  not  weaken  the  personal  regard  in 
which  Jefferson  held  Washington.  Although,  in  the  famous 


462  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

letter  to  Maggie,  it  is  said  he  included  Washington  among 
those  whom  he  affirmed  were  forming  the  government  on 
aristocratic  and  monarchical  principles,  yet  he  declared  that 
"his  integrity  was  most  pure,  his  justice  the  most  inflexible" 
he  had  ever  known.  "  He  was  indeed,"  said  he,  "  in  every 
sense  of  the  word,  a  wise,  a  good,  and  a  great  man."  Still  he 
let  his  political  views  warp  too  much  his  conduct,  and  Wash- 
ington might  justly  feel,  that  the  former  had  repaid  kind- 
ness with  ingratitude,  and  confidence  with  suspicion. 

One  who  had  seen  Washington  at  the  capitol,  invested 
with  power  and  the  head  of  a  great  people,  and  afterward 
watched  him  an  industrious  farmer,  repairing  his  barns  and 
attending  to  his  crops  and  cattle,  would  have  obtained  a 
vivid  conception  of  the  genius  of  our  institutions  and  the 
simple  grandeur  of  him  who  had  founded  them. 

The  year  that  followed  his  retirement  from  office  was  a 
quiet  routine  of  daily  duties,  and  he  thus  makes  one  day 
describe  the  whole.  He  rose  with  the  sun  and  breakfasted 
early.  His  morning  meal  being  accomplished,  he  says,  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend,  "  I  mount  my  horse  and  ride  round  my 
farms,  which  employs  me  until  it  is  time  to  dress  for  din- 
ner, at  which  I  rarely  miss  to  see  strange  faces,  come,  as 
they  say,  out  of  respect  for  me.  And  how  different  is  this 
from  having  a  few  social  friends  -at  a  cheerful  board.  The 
usual  time  for  sitting  at  table,  a  walk  and  tea,  bring  me 
within  the  dawn  of  candle-light,  previous  to  which,  if  not 
prevented  by  company,  I  resolve  that  as  soon  as  the  glim- 
mering taper  supplies  the  place  of  the  great  luminary,  I 
will  retire  to  my  writing-table  and  acknowledge  the  letters 
I  have  received.  Having  given  you  the  history  of  a  day, 
it  will  serve  for  a  year."  This,  however,  is  a  very  incom- 
plete account.  The  numberless  deeds  of  charity — the  con- 
stant acts  of  kindness — the  devotion  to  the  interests  of 
others,  especially  to  those  of  his  country,  which  revealed 
the  soul  and  heart,  are  not  recorded.  The  knowledge  of 


LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON.  463 

them  scarcely  lived  in  his  own  heart,  for  with  him  to  do 
good,  was  his  natural  life,  so  that  acts  of  virtue  were  no 
more  noted  by  him  than  his  pulsations.  But  while  en- 
grossed in  these  quiet  scenes,  the  driftings  of  that  terrible 
storm  which  was  rocking  Europe  to  its  foundations,  began 
to  be  felt  on  these  shores,  and  it  seemed  impossible  that 
this  country  should  escape  being  drawn  into  its  vortex. 
The  intolerant  French  Directory  insulted  our  Minister,  Mr. 
Pinckney;  French  cruisers  plundered  our  commerce,  and 
indignities  were  heaped  upon  us  that  rendered  farther  indif- 
ference impossible,  if  the  country  hoped  to  secure  the 
respect  of  nations.  Preparations  for  war  were  therefore 
set  on  foot,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  once  more  to  the 
nation's  great  leader  to  take  again  his  place  at  the  head  of 
the  army.  The  President  nominated  him  Commander-in- 
Chief,  and  the  Senate  confirmed  the  nomination.  Just 
having  struggled  through  a  long  life  of  toil  and  suffering, 
and  now  treading  the  verge  of  the  grave,  a  reentrance  to 
that  life  and  struggle  was  painful  in  the  extreme,  yet  to 
the  last,  thinking  only  of  his  country's  welfare,  he  declared 
he  would  not  entrench  himself  "  under  the  cover  of  age  and 
retirement,  if  his  services  should  be  required  in  repelling 
the  enemy."  He  therefore  accepted  the  appointment  and 
repaired  to  Philadelphia,  and  was  soon  again  merged  in 
public  affairs. 

While  here  a  little  incident  occurred,  which  exhibits  in  a 
striking  light  one  feature  of  Washington's  character.  Mr. 
Logan  had  arrived  as  a  sort  of  secret  envoy  from  France, 
sent  here,  it  was  supposed,  at  the  instigation  of  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son. Our  properly  appointed  plenipotentiary  had  gone  over 
to  adjust,  if  possible,  the  differences  of  the  two  countries, 
and  this  private  underhand  policy  disgusted  Washington. 
The  following  account  of  the  interview  between  him  and 
Mr.  Logan,  as  furnished  by  his  own  memoranda  of  the  visit, 


464  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

is  interesting,  from  the  strong  light  in  which  it  displays  the 
characteristics  of  the  two  men. 

"  Tuesday,  November  17th,  1778,  Mr.  Lear,  our  secretary, 
being  from  our  lodging  on  business,  one  of  my  servants  came 
into  the  room  where  I  was  writing,  and  informed  me  that  a 
gentleman  in  the  parlor  below  desired  to  see  me — no  name 
was  sent  up.  In  a  few  minutes  I  went  down,  and  found 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Blackwell  and  Dr.  Logan  there.  I  advanced 
toward  and  gave  my  hand  to  the  former ;  the  latter  did  the 
same  toward  me.  I  was  backward  in  giving  mine.  He 
possibly  supposing  from  hence,  that  I  did  not  recollect  him, 
said  his  name  was  Logan.  Finally,  in  a  very  cool  manner, 
and  with  an  air  of  marked  indifference,  I  gave  him  my  hand, 
and  asked  Dr.  Blackwell  to  be  seated,  the  other  took  a  seat  at 
the  same  time.  I  addressed  all  my  conversation  to  Dr.  Black- 
well  ;  the  other  all  his  to  me,  to  which  I  only  gave  negative 
or  affirmative  answers,  as  laconically  as  I  could,  except  ask- 
ing how  Mrs.  Logan  did.  He  seemed  disposed  to  be  very 
polite,  and  while  Dr.  Blackwell  and  myself  were  conversing 
on  the  late  calamitous  fever,  offered  me  an  asylumn  at  his 
house  if  it  should  return,  or  I  thought  myself  in  any  dan- 
ger in  the  city,  and  two  or  three  rooms  by  way  of  accommo- 
dation. I  thanked  him,  slightly  observing  there  would  be 
no  call  for  it."  Then  follows  some  account  of  a  conversation 
on  political  matters,  in  which  Washington,  without  depart- 
ing from  his  freezing  politeness,  gave  some  home  thrusts, 
all  of  which  however  failed  to  disconcert  the  imperturbable 
Logan.  The  whole  interview  evidently  made  a  decided 
impression  on  Washington,  and  chiefly,  one  would  infer, 
from  being  perhaps  the  only  instance  in  his  life  in  which 
his  manner,  usually  so  impressive,  or  if  he  chose,  crushing, 
failed  to  disconcert  the  object  toward  which  it  was  directed. 
This  Logan  was  evidently  an  extraordinary  man,  in  his  way 
making  up  in  impudence  what  he  might  lack  in  character. 


* 
LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  465 

The  minute  details,  as  given  by  Washington,  show  that 
the  persevering  politeness  with  which  the  fellow  met  all 
his  studied  coldness  of  manner,  somewhat  annoyed  him. 
The  climax  of  impudence,  however,  was  reached  when  he 
replied  to  this  lofty  hauteur  with  the  kind  and  charitable 
invitation  of  protection  and  an  asylum  in  his  house.  One 
of  these  little  bursts  of  light  which  sometimes  falls  on  and 
enlivens  a  whole  picture,  is  here  thrown  on  Washington's 
character,  when,  after  saying,  he  answered  him  coolly  and 
laconically  as  he  could,  he  adds,  "  except  asking  how  Mrs. 
Logan  did."  Here  the  true  innate  chivalry  of  the  man 
leaks  out. 

The  organization  of  the  army  was  a  difficult  matter  and 
went  on  slowly,  yet  the  energy  and  skill  he  exhibited  in 
fitting  it  for  active  operations,  showed  that  although  verg- 
ing on  his  threescore  and  ten,  "  his  eye  was  not  dim,  nor 
his  natural  force  abated." 

In  the  meantime,  however,  Bonaparte  had  vaulted  to 
power,  and  our  plenipotentiaries  at  the  French  capital  found 
little  difficulty  with  him  in  coming  to  terms  of  accommoda- 
tion. But  Washington  never  lived  to  see  this  great  object 
of  his  heart  accomplished.  On  the  12th  of  December,  he 
rode  out  to  visit  his  farms  as  usual.  But  the  day  was  cold 
and  rainy,  and  after  several  hours  of  exposure,  he  returned 
wet  and  chilled.  The  next  morning  the  ground  was  covered 
with  snow,  and  he  remained  at  home.  Toward  evening  he 
complained  of  a  sore  throat,  and  his  voice  grew  hoarse. 
He  was  aware  he  had  taken  cold,  but  thought  little  of  it, 
and  spent  the  evening  reading  the  newspapers,  and  in  social 
conversation  with  his  family.  As  he  was  retiring  his  pri- 
vate secretary,  Mr.  Lear,  advised  him  to  take  something  for 
his  cold.  He  replied,  "  You  know  I  never  take  anything 
for  colds ;  let  it  go  as  it  came."  But  in  the  night  he  awoke 
with  a  chill,  while  the  inflammation  in  his  throat  had 

25 


466  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

greatly  increased  and  continued  rapidly  to  grow  worse,  so 
that  by  morning  his  breathing  was  labored,  and  his  voice 
became  so  choked,  that  he  could  with  difficulty  articulate. 
He  sent  for  one  of  his  overseers  to  bleed  him,  and  then  de- 
spatched a  messenger  to  Alexandria,  nine  miles  off,  for  his 
old  friend,  Dr.  Craik.  The  disease,  however,  made  such  rapid 
progress,  that  the  family  became  alarmed,  and  sent  for  Dr. 
Brown,  who  resided  near.  But  the  remedies  of  these  phy- 
sicians, together  with  the  aid  of  Dr.  Dick,  who  arrived  later 
in  the  day,  were  powerless  against  the  disease,  which  seemed 
from  the  first  to  have  taken  complete  mastery  of  its  victim. 
He  was  in  the  full  vigor  of  life,  and  this  sudden  arresting  of 
nature  in  its  course,  made  the  last  struggles  doubly  violent. 
He  lay  and  panted  for  breath,  feeling,  as  the  hours  wore 
slowly  away,  that  each  one  carried  him  nearer  to  the  point 
of  suffocation.  But  not  a  murmur  escaped  him.  Calm  and 
resigned,  he  bore  his  sufferings  with  that  serene  composure 
which  had  characterized  him  in  all  the  trials  of  life.  At 
half  past  four  in  the  morning  he  sent  for  Mrs.  Washington, 
and  requested  her  to  bring  two  wills  from  his  desk.  She 
did  so.  He  then  bade  her  burn  one  and  keep  the  other. 
At  eight  he  got  up  and  dressed  and  sat  by  the  fire,  but  was 
compelled  immediately  to  lie  down  again.  At  noon  ke 
made  another  attempt,  but  could  not  rise.  As  evening  ap- 
proached, he  turned  to  Dr.  Craik,  and  whispered,  "  /  die 
hard,  but  I  am  not  afraid  to  die.  I  believed  from  my  first 
attack  that  I  should  not  survive  it.  My  breath  cannot  last 
long."  The  efforts  to  relieve  him  aggravated  very  much 
his  sufferings,  while  they  were  powerless  to  arrest  the 
disease.  Feeling  that  they  were  wholly  useless,  he  in  a 
feeble  voice  thanked  the  physicians  for  their  kindness,  but 
requested  them  to  desist  and  let  him  die  quietly.  Nothing 
remained  to  be  done,  therefore,  but  to  sit  and  watch  the 
steady  but  rapid  ebbings  of  life.  At  ten  he  whispered  in  a 


LIFE    OF  WASHINGTON.  467 

low,  husky,  scarcely  articulate  voice,  "  I  am  going have 

.  me  decently  buried,  and  do  not  let  my  body  be  put  in  the 
vault  in  less  than  three  days  after  I  am  dead.  Do  you  un- 
derstand me?  Well."  It  was  fearful  to  see  with  what 
ruthless  power  disease  crushed  that  strong  nature  down. 
But  with  perfect  composure  he  withdrew  his  hand  from 
that  of  his  secretary  and  placed  it  on  his  own  pulse,  as  if  to 
count  its  last  strokes.  In  a  few  moments  his  face  changed, 
his  hand  slipped  from  his  wrist,  and  he  ceased  to  breathe. 
Mrs.  Washington,  who  was  sitting  on  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
turned  to  the  doctor  and  asked,  "  Is  he  gone  ?"  "Yes,"  was 
the  reply.  "  'Tis  well  all  is  over.  I  shall  soon  follow  him ; 
I  have  no  more  trials  to  pass  through."  His  breath  grew 
shorter  and  feebler  every  moment,  till  a  little  after  ten, 
when  he  ceased  to  breathe.  As  they  looked  on  the  lifeless 
form,  it  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  one,  strong  and 
healthy  the  day  before,  had  really  passed  away,  and  death 
seemed  doubly  terrible,  when  with  one  quick  blow  it  could 
carry  so  much  to  the  grave.  He  went  out  with  the  cen- 
tury that  gave  him  to  the  world ;  and  as  his  life  had  gilded 
its  progress,  so  his  death  darkened  its  close,  and  hung 
weeds  of  mourning  round  the  one  that  was  dawning. 

The  account  of  his  sickness  and  death  were  received  at 
the  same  time  in  almost  every  part  of  the  Union,  and  the 
nation  was  paralyzed.  Solemn  ceremonies  attended  the 
funeral,  and  a  long  procession  accompanied  the  body  to  the 
tomb.  Minute  guns  were  fired  as  it  sadly  wound  its  way 
through  the  wintry  grove,  and  his  old  war  horse,  saddled 
and  bridled,  walked  riderless  beside  the  coffin.  The  noble 
steed  he  would  never  mount  again,  and  to  that  cold  cheek 
the  sullen  guns  would  never  send  the  blood,  as  of  yore. 
His  work  was  finished — his  battles  were  over — and  the 
more  than  Emperor  laid  in  the  peaceful  sepulchre.  As  the 
sad  news  slowly  traveled  over  the  land,  a  cry  of  bitter  an- 
guish followed  it,  for  sudden  darkness  had  fallen  on  the 


468  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

nation,  a  calamity  overtaken  it,  for  which  there  seemed  no 
remedy  and  no  solace.  The  people  were  his  children — and 
they  mourned  him  as  orphans.  Even  the  young  Republic 
of  France,  then  struggling  for  life,  put  on  crape,  and  for  ten 
days  all  the  flags  and  standards  wore  mourning,  as  though 
some  great  national  loss  had  been  sustained.  The  young 
Napoleon,  flushed  with  victory,  issued  the  following  order 
of  the  day  to  his  army :  "  Washington  is  dead.  This  great 
man  fought  against  tyranny ;  he  established  the  liberty  of 
his  country.  His  memory  will  always  be  dear  to  the  French 
people,  as  it  will  be  to  all  freemen  of  the  two  worlds ;  and 
especially  to  French  soldiers,  who,  like  him  and  the  Ameri- 
can soldiers,  have  combated  for  liberty  and  equality."  On 
the  same  day  the  trophies  brought  from  Egypt  were  dis- 
played in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  After  the  splendid  pageant 
was  over,  Bonaparte,  with  all  the  civil  and  military  autho- 
rities of  Paris,  and  accompanied  by  the  most  illustrious 
generals  of  his  army,  repaired  to  the  Temple  of  Mars,  now 
the  Hotel  des  Invalids,  to  hear  a  funeral  eulogiuin  on  Wash- 
ington, by  M.  de  Fontaine.  When  the  news  of  his  death 
was  received  on  board  the  vessel  of  Lord  Bridport,  then 
commanding  the  British  fleet,  composed  of  nearly  sixty 
ships  of  the  line,  lying  at  Torbay,  he  lowered  his  flag  half- 
mast  in  token  of  mourning.  Every  ship  followed  his  ex- 
ample.* Nothing  can  illustrate  the  grandeur  and  elevation 
of  Washington's  character  more,  than  these  tokens  of  respect 
from  nations  with  whom  we  were  on  the  verge  of  hostilities. 
The  history  of  the  race  furnishes  no  such  instance.  Over 
the  hatred  and  prejudices  engendered  by  war — over  faction, 
and  falsehood,  and  detraction — that  character  rises  so  pure 
and  exalted,  that  the  worst  passions  of  man,  his  deepest 
settled  prejudices,  shrink  from  assailing  it ;  nay,  humbled 
and  rebuked,  reluctantly  do  it  reverence. 

Vide  Sparks'  Life  of  Washington. 


Washington  as  a  Farmer. 


LIFE    OF   WASHINGTON.  471 

CHARACTER   OF   WASHINGTON. 

No  one,  in  tracing  the  history  of  our  struggle,  can  deny 
that  Providence  watched  over  our  interests,  and  gave  us  the 
only  man  who  could  have  conducted  the  car  of  the  revolu- 
tion to  the  goal  it  finally  reached.  That  revolution,  from 
its  incipient  movements  to  its  final  close,  was  the  most 
remarkable  that  ever  occurred  in  human  history.  The 
principle  of  personal  freedom  had  its  birth  in  the  teachings 
of  Christ.  From  that  time  on,  through  all  the  changes 
of  religious  and  political  life,  man  struggled  to  make  this 
principle  practical.  But  at  the  first  moment  of  success  he 
was  frightened  back  by  the  pathless,  untrodden,  and  bound- 
less field  that  stretched  out  before  him.  On  this  conti- 
nent it  began  in  asserting  that  taxation  and  representation 
should  go  together.  But  passing  from  this  narrow  basis  to 
freer  and  broader  grounds,  it  at  length  made  a  clean  sweep 
of  kings  and  titles  and  privileges  of  every  class,  and  a  com- 
mon farmer  presided  over  the  destinies  of  a  republic  that 
acknowledged  no  law  but  the  will  of  the  people.  From 
the  time  Washington  entered  on  his  duties  as  commander- 
in-chief,  to  the  close  of  the  war,  he  moves  before  us  like 
some  grand  embodiment  of  virtue  and  power.  To  quote 
the  language  used  by  myself  on  another  occasion — whether 
bowed  in  fasting  and  prayer  before  God  in  behalf  of  his 
country,  or  taking  the  fate  of  the  American  army  on  his 
brave  heart — whether  retreating  before  the  overwhelming 
numbers  of  the  enemy,  or  pouring  his  furious  squadrons  to 
the  charge — whether  lost  in  anxious  thought,  as  his  eye 
seeks  in  vain  for  'some  ray  amid  the  gloomy  prospect  that 
surrounds  him,  or  struggling  amid  the  broken  ice  of  the 
angry  Delaware,  in  the  midst  of  the  wintry  storm — whether 
galloping  into  the  deadly  volleys  of  the  enemy  in  the  strong 
effort  to  restore  the  fight,  or  wearing  the  wreath  of  victory 
which  a  grateful  nation  placed  with  mingled  tears  and  accla- 


472  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

mations  on  his  brow,  he  is  the  same  self-collected,  noble- 
minded  and  resolute  man. 

Perhaps  there  never  was  a  public  character  so  little 
understood  in  the  various  qualities  that  go  to  make  it  up  as 
that  of  Washington.  He  is  called  the  father  of  his  country, 
and  that  phrase  is  supposed  to  embrace  the  entire  man. 
We  contemplate  the  perfected,  finished  character,  never 
thinking  of  the  formation  state.  We  look  at  the  fruit  alone, 
without  asking  what  kind  of  blossom  produced  it. 

Notwithstanding  men's  intimacy  with  human  character, 
they  will  insist  that  an  extraordinary  one,  whether  good  or 
bad,  must  be  an  exception  to  general  rules — from  the  outset 
a  monstrosity  either  in  vice  or  virtue.  But  a  great  and 
good  man  is  as  much  the  result  of  growth  as  a  tree.  It 
passes  through  different  stages,  indeed  through  errors,  ac- 
quires virtue  by  self-control,  and  wisdom  by  experience,  and 
so  matures  gradually. 

There  are  certain  moral  qualities  which  adhere  to  one 
through  life,  and  do  not  change  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  to 
which  he  is  exposed.  An  utterly  selfish  boy,  is  usually  a 
selfish  man ;  and  a  child  of  generous  and  noble  impulses,  no 
matter  to  what  depravity  he  may  in  other  respects  descend, 
generally  retains  those  characteristics  to  the  last.  So  Wash- 
ington had  as  high  a  sense  of  honor  when  a  boy  as  when  a 
man ;  was  just  as  elevated  and  unselfish  in  his  feelings  at 
sixteen,  as  at  sixty ;  but  in  all  other  respects  he  was  totally 
different.  In  later  years,  repose  and  calm  dignity  were 
his  great  characteristics — in  youth,  ardor,  enthusiasm,  and 
love  of  adventure.  In  the  former  period  of  his  life,  peace 
was  his  desire  and  delight,  while  in  earlier  days,  he  loved 
the  excitement  of  war  and  the  scope  it  gave  to  his  untried 
energies.  In  youth,  the  clangor  of  battle  was  music  to  his 
ears,  but  in  riper  age  there  was  no  sound  so  sweet  to  him 
as  the  song  of  the  husbandman. 

Washington  might  have  been  just  as  good,  but  never  so 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  473 

great  a  man,  had  he  possessed  the  same  mildness  and  quiet- 
ness of  character  in  his  childhood  that  marked  his  later 
manhood.     A  certain  amount  of  combativeness — destruc- 
tiveness,  some  may  term  it — is  absolutely  necessary  to  give 
a  man  energy,  self-determination,  and  power.     Every  good 
and  great  man,  from  Moses  to  Paul,  and  Paul  to  Luther,  has 
possessed  it — much  more,  every  wicked,  ambitious  spirit 
which  has  succeeded  in  changing  the  world.     A  warm  and 
fiery  heart  is  indispensable  to  great  resolution  and  force. 
This  Washington  possessed.     Cool  and  correct  in  judgment, 
yet  quick  hi  his  impulses ;  methodical  and  clear  in  all  his 
business  arrangements,  yet  bold  and  fearless  in  danger,  he 
possessed  the  basis  of  a  strong  and  elevated  character.     At 
times  during  his  career,  he  was  exceedingly  impetuous,  and 
on  a  few  occasions  his  passions  burst  through  all  control. 
His  whole  appearance  then  became  terrible,  and  the  be- 
holder shrunk  appalled  from  his  presence.     But  these  vol- 
canic exhibitions  were  of  rarest  occurrence,  and  served  only 
to  indicate  the  fire  that  was  slumbering  below.     "Without 
them  we  should  never  have  known  how  marvelous  was  his 
self-control.     He  that  ruleth  his  spirit,  and  not  he  that  ha* 
no  spirit  to  rule,  is  the  truly  great  man.     It  is  one  of  the 
astonishing  features  of  his  life,  that  amid  the  perfect  chaos 
of  feeling  into  which  he  was  thrown — amid  the  distracted 
counsels,  and  still  more  distracted  affairs  that  surrounded 
him,  he  kept  the  perfect  equilibrium  of  his  own   mind. 
The  contagion  of  fear  and  doubt  could  not  touch  him.     In 
this  respect  he  did  not  seem  susceptible  to  the  common  in- 
fluences which   affect  men.     His  soul,  poised   on  its  own 
centre,  reposed  calmly  there  amid  all  the  tumult  and  turbu- 
lence  that  shook  the  land.     The  ingratitude  and  folly  of 
those  who  should  have  been  his  friends,  the  insults  of  his 
foes,  and  the  frowns  of  fortune,  could  not  provoke  him  into 
rash  acts  or  delude  him  into  error. 

His  constancy  and  firmness  were  equal  to  his  self-control. 


474  LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON. 

The  changeless  aspect  and  steadfast  heart  he  maintained 
during  those  seven  years  of  trouble  and  gloom,  which  make 
up  the  history  of  the  revolution,  will  be  a  wonder  to  the 
end  of  time.  Cast  down  by  no  reverses,  elated  by  no  suc- 
cesses, he  could  neither  be  driven  into  despondency,  nor 
carried  away  by  extravagant  hopes.  But  doubtless  the 
trials  which  tested  his  firmness  most,  were  those  which  we 
are  least  able  to  appreciate.  Those  outward  public  calami- 
ties which  all  can  see,  and  in  which  we  know  we  have  the 
sympathies  of  the  good,  can  be  more  easily  borne  than  in- 
gratitude, injustice,  suspicion  and  slander,  from  those  we 
are  striving  to  benefit.  Amid  disorganized,  disbanding 
armies — amid  cabals  formed  against  him — falsehoods  circu- 
lated about  him,  jealousies  of  Congress — amid  open  accusa- 
tions and  implied  doubts  of  his  virtue  and  capacity,  he 
moved  calmly  yet  resolutely  forward  in  the  path  of  duty. 
This  fortitude  under  calamities,  firm  courage  in  the  midst 
of  reverses,  and  unshaken  constancy  in  every  trial  to  which 
human  nature  is  subjected,  prove  him  to  have  possessed  a 
soul  of  amazing  strength,  and  a  faith  in  the  right  never 
surpassed. 

Another  striking  trait  in  Washington's  character,  was  the 
sway  he  exercised  over  other  men.  No  one  approached 
him  without  feeling  this  magical  influence.  A  vast  and 
comprehensive  mind,  which  seems  both  to  understand  and 
embrace  those  about  it,  must,  of  necessity,  exert  great  con- 
trol. Besides,  there  was  that  evidence  of  slumbering 
power,  of  transcendent  elevation  of  character,  of  resistless 
will,  of  fearlessness  and  strength,  in  his  very  presence,  that 
made  every  spirit  bend  before  him. 

As  a  military  man,  Washington  stands  in  the  first  rank 
of  great  commanders.  He  possessed  every  quality  that 
goes  to  the  formation  of  one.  Courage  was  never  more 
completely  impersonified  than  in  him.  The  bravest,  said 
Napoleon,  had  his  moment  de  peur — moment  of  fear.  But 


LIFE    OF    WASHINGTON.  475 

one  cannot  point  to  the  spot  in  Washington's  career,  where 
his  firmness  and  coolness  for  an  instant  forsook  him.  To 
this  was  added  that  high  chivalric  feeling  prompting  a  man 
in  perilous  crises  to  deeds  of  personal  heroism.  When  the 
hour  demanding  them  arrived,  the  most  perilous  and  des- 
perate feats  of  valor  were  performed  by  him,  that  are  found 
recorded  in  the  history  of  war. 

Another  very  important  quality — the  power  in  a  com- 
mander to  win  the  love  and  confidence  of  his  troops,  no  one 
possessed  in  a  more  remarkable  degree  than  he.  Such 
devotion  and  love,  amid  starvation  and  want  and  neglect, 
were  never  before  witnessed.  Washington,  at  Valley 
Forge,  holding  the  troops  to  him  by  the  power  of  love 
alone,  attracts  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  world. 

Caution  and  promptness  combined  in  a  leader,  make  him 
a  strong  adversary  in  the  field.  To  be  tempted  into  no 
rashness,  yet  show  no  hesitation  or  delay — to  commit  no 
error  himself,  yet  be  prompt  as  a  thunderbolt  in  taking  ad- 
vantage of  one  committed  by  another — are  requisites  rarely 
found,  and  yet  possessed  by  Washington  in  a  remarkable 
degree. 

A  moral  firmness,  which  neither  defeat  nor  difficulties, 
nor  the  most  protracted  and  exhausting  labor  can  discourage 
or  force  into  cessation  of  effort,  is  rarely  possesssed  by  any 
leader,  yet  this  never  for  a  moment  forsook  Washington. 

In  moral  elevation,  no  warrior  of  ancient  or  modern  times 
approaches  him.  Given  to  no  excess  himself,  he  sternly 
rebuked  it  in  others.  The  principles  of  religion  were 
deeply  engrafted  in  his  heart ;  and  as  there  was  no  stain  on 
his  blade,  he  could  go  from  the  fierce  fought  field  to  the 
sacramental  table.  That  brow,  which  would  have  awed  a 
Roman  Senate  in  its  proudest  days,  bent  in  the  dust  before 
his  Maker.  A  Brutus  in  justice,  he  did  not  allow  personal 
friendship  to  sway  his  decision,  or  influence  him  in  the  be- 
stowment  of  his  favors.  Sincere  in  all  his  declarations,  his 


476  LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON. 

word  was  never  doubted,  and  his  promise  never  broken. 
Intrusted  finally  with  almost  supreme  power,  he  never 
abused  it,  and  laid  it  down  at  last  more  cheerfully  than  he 
had  taken  it  up.  Bonaparte,  vaulting  to  supreme  command, 
seized  it  with  avidity,  and  wielded  it  without  restraint. 
The  Directory  obstructing  his  plans,  he  broke  it  up  with  the 
bayonet.  Cromwell  did  the  same  with  the  Rump  Parlia- 
ment, and  installed  himself  Protector  of  England,  and  even 
hesitated  long  about  the  title  of  king.  Washington,  fettered 
more  than  both,  submitted  to  defeat  and  disappointment, 
without  using  a  disrespectful  word  to  the  congress  that 
abused  him,  and  rejected  the  offered  crown  with  a  sternness 
and  indignation  that  forever  crushed  the  hopes  of  those  who 
presented  it.  Calm  and  strong  in  council,  untiring  in  effort, 
wise  in  policy,  terrible  as  a  storm  in  battle,  and  incorrup- 
tible in  virtue,  he  rises  in  moral  grandeur  so  far  above  the 
Alexanders,  and  Caesars,  and  Napoleons  of  the  world,  that 
even  comparison  seems  injustice.  But  the  crowning  glory 
of  his  character  was  his  patriotism.  This  was  so  pure,  so 
unmixed  with  any  selfishness,  that  the  breath  of  suspicion 
never  sullied  it,  and  no  ingratitude  or  wrong  could  for  a 
moment  weaken  its  force.  It  was  like  the  love  of  a  father 
for  his  son,  that  neither  injuries  nor  neglect  can  shake. 
Exposing  himself  to  present  suspicion  rather  than  peril  his 
country — weakening  and  endangering  his  own  army  to  aid 
his  lieutenants — rejoicing  in  the  victories  and  renown  of 
others  more  than  in  his  own,  so  that  the  land  he  loved 
better  than  his  life,  might  be  saved,  he  stands  before  us  in 
all  the  harmonious  proportions  that  make  a  complete  man. 

It  has  often  troubled  good  men  that  Washington  made 
no  mention  of  religion  in  his  last  moments.  But  a  man's 
life,  not  his  dying  speeches,  must  be  the  criterion  by  which 
we  judge  him.  One  who  has  studied  Washington's  character 
well,  would  be  more  surprised  to  hear  him  express  greater 
religious  feeling  on  his  death-bed  than  in  ordinary  life,  than 


LIFE   OF  WASHINGTON.  477 

to  hear  him  express  less.  To  such  a  man  as  he,  and  one 
who  had  for  his  whole  life  faced  death  in  every  form,  that 
last  solemn  hour  could  give  no  new  revelations,  awaken  no 
new  emotions.  For  years  it  had  made  no  difference  to  him, 
he  said,  at  what  hour  he  was  taken  away.  He  had  placed 
himself  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  given  the  time  of  his  de- 
parture no  further  thought.  Besides,  Washington  never 
expressed  to  any  one  those  emotions  and  thoughts  which 
concerned  himself  alone.  No  man  kept  a  more  full  and 
complete  diary,  and  yet  throughout,  there  never  leaks  out 
by  any  accident,  any  of  those  soul  utterances  which  it 
seems  impossible,  under  all  circumstances,  to  suppress.  His 
inward  life  he  never  revealed,  and  to  expect  that  he  would 
make  that  portion  of  it  into  which  religion  entered  an  ex- 
ception, is  evidently  unreasonable.  His  views  and  belief  he 
never  concealed — they  were  all  emphatically  religious ;  but 
his  EXPERIENCE  was  his  own,  and  it  was  known  to  no  one 
but  God. 


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